The old manager visited us today. He stood at the front gate and held it open for several of us while he blew cigarette smoke in our faces. Then he told us we shouldn't complain to the city about the trash diggers, because they need to make a living. The new manager painted the upper level deck this week. He was careful to only bang on the white people's doors and explain how they needed to exit their apartments in order to avoid the the wet paint. Some of us have suffered from headache, nausea and burning lungs since the painting began. The new manager says, "I don t believe it." At least nobody has died locked in their apartment this summer. It must be because of the mild weather. I suppose we should be grateful.