I used to live with my roommate, Milly, and let me tell you, it was an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. From day one, it was clear that Milly had a very different definition of ‘shared living’ than I did. While I diligently stocked up on household essentials like toilet paper, soap, and cleaning supplies, Milly seemed to think these things magically materialized. She **never** contributed, not even once, to these basic necessities. And don’t even get me started on chores! Dishes would pile up in the sink for days, laundry would overflow, and the general state of our apartment was perpetually chaotic – all thanks to Milly’s complete lack of responsibility. But the worst part of living with Milly was her chronic lateness with bills, especially rent. It was a constant struggle to get her to pay her share on time, and I often found myself covering for her just to avoid late fees and potential eviction. It was incredibly stressful and put a huge strain on our already fragile relationship. We somehow managed to make it to the end of our initial lease, but things only got worse from there.
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After our lease expired, we switched to a month-to-month agreement, hoping that a more flexible arrangement might somehow improve things. But of course, it didn’t. One day, Milly simply disappeared. No text, no call, no explanation – she just vanished into thin air. I later found out through a mutual friend that she had moved in with her boyfriend, leaving me to deal with the aftermath of her sudden departure. And by aftermath, I mean all of her belongings, which were still scattered throughout our apartment, and the full burden of the rent, which I was now solely responsible for. I was **absolutely furious**. How could she just leave me like that, without a word, and expect me to cover for her? The audacity was truly astounding.
Days turned into weeks, and I heard nothing from Milly. I was starting to wonder if she had completely forgotten about me and her stuff. Then, out of the blue, I received a text message from her. Expecting an apology or at least an explanation, I eagerly opened the message, only to be met with the most infuriating sentence I had ever read. The text read: “I’M NOT STAYING THERE, SO WHY SHOULD I PAY RENT?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. The sheer entitlement and lack of consideration were staggering. After taking a few deep breaths to compose myself, I decided to give her one last chance to redeem herself. I replied to her text, telling her that she had until July 1st to come and pick up all of her belongings. I made it clear that if she didn’t collect her things by the deadline, I would get rid of them.
The deadline came and went, and as expected, Milly was nowhere to be found. She didn’t call, she didn’t text, she didn’t even bother to send a friend to collect her stuff. It was as if she had completely erased me and our shared living experience from her memory. At this point, I felt justified in taking matters into my own hands. I spent the next few days packing up all of Milly’s belongings. I sorted through everything, separating the items that were still useful from the ones that were clearly trash. I donated the basics, such as clothes and household items, to a local charity. But when it came to the more valuable items, I decided to keep them. After all, I reasoned, Milly owed me a significant amount of money in unpaid rent and bills, so I was simply recouping some of my losses.
Once I had finished packing up all of Milly’s belongings, I changed the locks on the apartment. I wanted to ensure that she couldn’t simply waltz back in whenever she pleased and cause more chaos in my life. I finally felt like I could breathe again, knowing that I was free from the burden of living with Milly. I started to redecorate the apartment, transforming it into a space that was truly my own. I bought new furniture, painted the walls, and filled the apartment with things that brought me joy. It was a fresh start, and I was determined to make the most of it. I had almost forgotten about Milly and her existence when, out of nowhere, she showed up at my doorstep, demanding her stuff back. I was absolutely shocked and unprepared.
She stood there, arms crossed, with an expression of entitlement on her face that I had become all too familiar with. “I’m here to pick up my things,” she announced, as if nothing had ever happened. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Really, Milly?” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “After all this time, you suddenly decide that you want your stuff back? After you abandoned me and left me to cover all the rent and bills?” She didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Instead, she simply shrugged and said, “Well, I need my things now, so just give them to me.” I took a deep breath and explained to her that I had already gotten rid of most of her belongings. I told her that I had donated the clothes and household items to charity and that I had kept the more valuable items to compensate for the money she owed me.
Milly’s face turned red with anger. “You can’t do that!” she screamed. “Those are my things! You have no right to get rid of them!” I stood my ground, refusing to be intimidated by her outburst. I calmly explained that she had had plenty of time to collect her belongings and that she had forfeited her right to them when she abandoned me and refused to pay her share of the rent. The argument escalated, with Milly threatening to call the police and sue me for the value of her belongings. I told her to go ahead and do whatever she felt was necessary, but that I was not going to back down. The situation remains unresolved, and I’m not sure what the future holds. But one thing is for sure: I will never live with Milly again.
