It may look like a garden, but its really more of a snake pit. Its not the paper thin walls, or the windows that have been painted over so many times that they will never open, or the termites, or the weird (unwritten) rules, or the obsolete electrical system, or the baroque legacy gas system where you are as likely to be paying for your neighbor's utilities as your own. Its not the suicides of which there have been two in recent years. Its the people. The smile to your face, stab you in the back people that is the problem here. The emotionally-challenged woman who thinks that every man lusts for her calves and complains about invasion of privacy when no such thing has occurred. Or the neighbor who sang Joni Mitchell songs at night whenever she got drunk (which was every night) but complained to management that I used the telephone. I didnt appreciate it when Management threw her out with 3 days notice, I think that she deserved more compassion than that, even if she had stabbed me in the back. But by far the worse part of this was the new landlady, one of those who is scared of computers and doesnt know much about them, and is willing to say the most appalling things in writing apparently too stupid to realize that she was letting both herself and the Magnolia in for an astonishing lawsuit that they would lose, if I did lawsuits, which I dont. And neither does my patron, whose guest I was. And so, may I advise you, dear reader, if you are considering the Magnolia to save yourself some trouble and go elsewhere. Life is too short.
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