This is Yuko-san. She’s our landlady (sort of). We live in a Japanese style “Mansion” (basically a fancy apartment with souped-up security). She literally lives on the first floor of our building, greets each person who comes into the building, and monitors the security footage from nights and weekends, making sure no one is up to anything funny.
When Ryosuke and I moved in, she asked if we were roommates. When I told her we were married, she was shocked. “But he’s not American!” she told me.
I love her.
When I get bored with my lonely life as a freelancer, I hop on the elevator downstairs and we chat through her window. She’s a grandmother, so I can’t quite understand everything that she says, but she’s a real sweetheart.
One of her many jobs is making sure all the trash has been properly separated, cleaned, and assembled each morning (since Japanese trash works on a rotating basis, where you throw away, for instance, burnable trash on Mondays and Thursdays, plastics on Saturdays, non-burnable on Wednesday, glass bottles on Friday, etc…).
I walk Ryosuke to the station every morning at like 7am (if he has to be awake, I should be to). I always see Yuko-san checking everyone’s trash when I get back from the station. I always offer to help – she never lets me. So we chat instead.
And she gets very worried I will get tan and become less attractive.