It started with registered letters containing ominous messages, sent weeks after we are left to think everything is fine. Then the endless inspectons two at a time, clipboards in tow. some without any advance warning at all, and taking photos!? There is no logic to any of this, no explanation. Seems we are held to the highest standards of military-like perfection: cleaning, neatness and interior decorating. Like we are trying out for Better Homes and Gardens magazine. I don't know if I am the only one in the building going through this but it sure feels like it. I can't believe I spend almost half of what I make to live here. Not saying it isn't a good deal but a little more respect would be nice. Sending the exterminator up at such early hours and with such little notice meant I ended up sleeping in the hallway in my pyjamas and shoes, trying to figure out what to do with my poor cat (not just a love thing, it is my responsibility to take care of her). Seems I can't even throw anything in the garbage without it turning into a huge fiasco. It is getting to the point that eviction would be a welcome relief rather than a terrible dread. What can I say? I hope it gets better. I pity anyone new who moves into this building but I would say they probably won't go through the same thing I did. —HI