Sometimes, all you want at the end of a long day is a good whodunnit with just enough twists to make you furrow your brow and wonder if you could have pulled off the perfect murder (you know, hypothetically… with plausible deniability).

So along came The Residence on Netflix—like a shiny new mystery novel that jumped off the shelf and landed squarely in my lap. I was in. The White House, a murder, secrets in high places, eccentric characters, and a falcon (yes, a falcon!) swooping in with random bird facts that felt like the most unexpected bonus round of Jeopardy!

I adore shows like this. Not just for the intrigue, but because they’re chock-full of psychological insight—how people tick, how they hide, how they reveal, how they unravel. It’s basically professional development for me in a more entertaining wrapper.

Truth be told, I treat my commute like a mini-episode of The Residence. On the train, I’m scanning the car like a human lie detector: 
– That guy nervously tapping his foot while texting? He just ghosted someone and is now regretting it. 
– The woman with the slightly smug smile and perfectly curated tote bag? She just got promoted and loves letting the world know without saying a word. 
– The guy in the corner mumbling to himself? Honestly, I think he’s writing the next great American novel, one post-it at a time. 

Work meetings? Don’t even get me started. I’m practically hosting my own psychological Clue: 
“Was it the Director with the budget spreadsheet in the boardroom? Or the project manager with the overly aggressive Gantt chart in the breakout room?” 

Now, the last episode of The Residence could’ve wrapped things up a good 20 minutes earlier. But I forgive them. It gave me more time to soak in the delicious absurdity of it all—and to Google bird trivia. Did you know a falcon can dive at over 200 miles per hour? That’s faster than my patience in a staff meeting that should’ve been an email.

In the end, The Residence delivered exactly what I needed: mystery, mayhem, psychological layers, and yes, feathered facts. Bring on the next one, Netflix. I’m ready—with my magnifying glass, notebook, and a metro card.