K moved into my 4-bedroom condo less than a month ago and is being evicted this month.

On Saturday, I came home at 6:30 p.m. from a friend’s house and found 20 people in my house dancing to techno music. Each was high on either GHB, coke, MDMA, ketamine, or a combination. I was asked multiple times if I “needed something” as a tray of various white substances and pills was placed in front of me. I was a bit stressed and needed to get out of there. I escaped to the park with my my dog to process what I walked in on. After an hour, I walked back home as I needed to speak with a few clients in Taiwan. When I went to my room, I found a girl passed out in my bed. I walked downstairs to the closest muscular man and politely asked him to remove the girl from my room.

On this day, one of the other housemates, M was away, and another, R, was hiding in his bedroom from the craziness. At a loss of what to do, I do my work and lock the dog and cat in my room with me. I spoke to K around 9 p.m. when he told me that everyone was leaving. At 11 p.m., he told me the same thing. At 12, R invited me to go out with him while he advertises for a club. We returned home around 4:30 a.m. The party was still going. I found K and told him he must remove everyone from the house and that I’m not comfortable with this many drugs and people (whom he just met the previous night) in the house. He told me that because he did the dishes that I should let him have his friends over. I attributed his apathetic response to him being high. Everyone left shortly thereafter to go to another party. A few days later, I explained why I was upset. He told me that his party was no different than when R and I have our three mutual friends over for cocktails as he ‘didn’t know them’. He didn’t understand why it was a bit dangerous to a woman to have 20 strangers drugged out in her home,

I found out later that that this party at my place was the after-party from their partying the previous night, They had gone straight from the after hours place to the rooftop of my condo building then into our home.

I am unfortunately living with MVWR until June when his lease is up.

I bought my condo last year and looked online for a roommate. I am recently divorced and managed to start my life over as an independent single woman. I’m proud of my house and have made it a nice, cozy home. Well, I found this guy and had pity for him because he was getting divorced and moving out of his ex’s house. What he didn’t tell me before moving in was that he had a DUI, no car, no job, and was waiting for his lawyer to complete a car accident settlement. He’d lost his health insurance, so instead of paying cash for meds for his back pain, he drank up to a case of beer a day, followed by shots, while checking Facebook from my couch. This would end in loud, late-night mournful sing-a-longs with his laptop.

One night he was so drunk  that he told me he wanted to “puke scotch all over my tits” and another night he “accidentally” took a muscle relaxer after a day of drinking. He ended up baking a tomato on a cookie sheet and putting water to boil in a casserole dish on the stove. He’d managed to fall asleep with his hand down the garbage disposal before I told him the kitchen was closed. Another day I got a text that said, “If you see a young girl in the house when you get home, don’t freak out – her boyfriend beat her up and she needs a place to stay.” (Oh, no problem! Not freaking out!) That girl stayed for a week and a half.

Last weekend, I came home after being away, and the whole place smelled like there’d been a tire fire. I cleaned all day and when I finally saw him I asked him about the smell and he said, “Oh, do you think it was the pot?” Now, I don’t care if people smoke marijuana, but he signed a lease that said absolutely no illegal substances in my house.

I was nice enough to let him stay through to the end of the lease. What’s most shocking is that when I told him he absolutely had to be out the day his lease ended, he was genuinely surprised!

I currently live with MVWR, W. I’ve come to realize that it’s really not just W and myself that live at my apartment. It’s actually quite the paradise for all of “W’s” friends who are, coincidentally, unemployed.

My apartment turns into what I call, the UEP (unemployed playground) when I leave for work. W wakes up, presumably around 11 or 12, makes himself breakfast, eats it under the covers on the couch, and then calls his friends to come over.

Then one, maybe two or three of them show up, plunk their dirty asses down on the couch (which I’m strongly considering NEVER sitting on again) and watch TV/Movies/Sports and smoke blunt after blunt until its time to, surprise! EAT again…

They may go out to lunch, you know, spending that unemployment money wisely, but more than likely, they will be ordering in. I know this because of all of the wonderful take out containers that have made their way into my cabinets (still covered in oily grease btw)… Then, its time to smoke another blunt…

Now, if one of these dreamboat, super cool and productive friends of W’s has a car, perhaps a blunt cruise and a stop at the convenience store for some Arizona iced teas (which will be spilled either on the couch or on the floor shortly thereafter) and then rendezvous back to marinating on the couch for hours upon hours…

That is when I come home. I walk in after a 10-hour work day, house smelling like old asshole and blunt, the sink littered with dishes (that used to be in the dishwasher, but for some reason, W has decided to place on the counter) and the living room filled with refuse. And by refuse, I am referring to the 2-4 dudes who have done nothing all day except serve as an excellent examples of sloths personified…

And he wonders why I lock myself in my room/stock up on Febreeze/am gone as much as possible/avoid him. I cannot take living at the UEP anymore. I seriously cannot. But thankfully, the lease is up soon. May 31, may you come quickly for us all.