The Crazy French Lady on the 31st Floor

There’s a tiny, crazy French lady on the 31st floor. As far as I can tell, she lives alone with a besweatered chihuahua in a massive apartment (they’re all big on the top floors). I see her quite often in a tattered pink tracksuit, pulling a grocery cart, yelling at her dog in French. What’s peculiar is that I regularly see her raiding the recycling room in our basement for cans and bottles, which she presumably returns for cash. I suppose she’s cash-poor, but it’s odd that she lives in a big, posh apartment and still collects cans for small change. Maybe it’s just a hobby?