Dear Spawn of Satan (my landlord),

This is going to come across very harshly, but I absolutely hate you. These past nine months have been the most hostile months of my life. I quite literally wait to watch your car pull away before I leave my apartment. Avoiding you makes me extremely late for most things in my life. New renters and apartment-dwellers, if you are moving into a new place, then please make sure that your landlord is not a certified psychopath prior to moving in. I know this can be hard to do, but try to feel the situation out as best as possible because my roommates and I are hating ourselves now.

1. Thanks for cursing me out about getting a fire escape.

You read that right, readers! The built-in fire escape is right outside the front door to my apartment; the ladder to get to the window to escape is made of metal. For those of you who don’t know, like my landlord, that would be pretty f**cking hot if there was a fire. Also, once you burnt both your hands off, you wouldn’t even be able to escape because the window is sealed shut. If you managed to have the super-human strength to break through the window, then you would be sitting on the roof waiting for help to arrive. Let me remind you all that fire rises. So, you would probably have to jump off the roof. So, naturally, I got a fire escape that you hook into the window and can climb down from there. Pretty straight forward, I thought. Apparently not, because I received a call from my darling landlord informing me that because I got this fire escape that he was convinced that I was going to light a fire in the apartment.

I felt like you needed a second to sit with that.

I got a fire escape, so naturally I play with matches. He then went on to say that because I’m a “Buddhist who doesn’t believe in Jesus, I’m going to light a fire and burn the entire house down with my Devil worship.” Evidently, the man has no knowledge about religious sects other than his own. I am here to report that I have not lit the house on fire. Although, I do want to light him on fire sometimes. So, new renters make sure that you check your fire escape to make sure that it can actually provide you with a means of escape—especially if you live with an atheist, Buddhist, Devil-worshiper like myself.

2. Please stop telling me to smile.

I have resting bitch face. I am fine. Nothing is wrong; all is dandy. I am just simply not happy to see you, and therefore I do not plan to smile. Please don’t tell me to smile. Also, it would be awesome if you wouldn't tell my roommate that she was the “entire package” because she is “pretty, intelligent and has goals” All women have these. Also, don’t tell my other roommate that “you have to look out for the quiet ones because they’re the freakiest” or ask if she’s a serial killer. She could easily become one if you keep going. Don’t tell our neighbor that I’m your favorite tenant because I’m “awesome and hot.” I am literally gagging writing this. This behavior is sexual harassment people. It’s simply not okay. So, if your landlord says these things to you, then please speak up. Or call all your scary Italian family members who “know a guy that knows a guy.” (Kidding).

3. If there’s something wrong with the house that is your responsibility—please don’t take four months to deal with it.

Have you ever had pet squirrels for four months? We have! It was a real joy. In November, two squirrels took residence in our ceiling. I told our landlord who then took four months to deal with it. By the way, “dealing with it” was trying to tell me that all the exterminators were on vacation—all of them. Every single exterminator, in the state of New York, was on vacation. You heard it right. Finally, he gets an exterminator and sprays disinfectant in the ceiling—disinfectant. So now, the squirrels smell like freaking Lysol and don’t plan to leave. He thought the squirrels were going to pick up and say, “Hey guys, he sprayed some cleaning stuff up here, time to pack up and head out.” What?! If you see the logic, then please do tell me. My landlord then proceeds to close up all the squirrels' means of escaping. He does this even after we told him that we still heard them. Then, he put peanut butter in the closed vents to “see if they would eat it.” I honestly don’t know what to say about that. You want to see if animals that cannot escape will eat food that you provide them? I’m lost, here. So, we had pets. Finally, he got cages and trapped them and now they’re gone. But, that happened in March—four months with pet squirrels.

4. Stop playing loud music.

Please stop confusing your apartment for a concert venue; they are not one in the same. I do not want to come home at 10 p.m. from a long day at work or school to you blasting Gwen Stefani—like what? Is it 2003? Also, there’s quite literally no need for you to pull up in your car with all your windows down, blasting music. We see you. You don’t need a theme song when you pull up in front of our house. You’re not driving a Lambo; this isn’t an estate. Take it down many notches. Also, there’s no need to text me music video links with “check this out!!!!!! (a million emojis)” I can hear the song through the three levels of floors that separate us. I wish there were more.

5. Lastly, (although there is much more), stop having verbal arguments with our neighbor loudly enough for us to feel like we’re a part of it.

I don’t know what this woman has done to you, but you have to stop screaming at her. I do not want to hear you call her every name in the book. She may be a wonderful woman. She may entirely deserve it. I have no idea, but it has to stop. Take it inside. Text her. Call her. But please, don’t scream about it on our front lawn. It’s disturbing everyone, and I feel personally victimized.

I could go on and on, but I will refrain. New renters, please make sure that you don’t feel all the same things that I’m feeling right now. That being said, it is very hard to gage someone’s psychopath level when your first meeting is very brief. So, if you end up like me, then you’ll need to already own a fire escape—don’t have one delivered, the ability to speak up when you’re harassed (or scary family members), a love for squirrels (and a broom to hit the ceiling with—or a wine bottle, that works too), and headphones/earplugs. Best of luck! It won’t last forever (83 days to go).