I thought divorce was the only stress I had to deal with, but little did I know that my new landlord would test me more than expected. After discovering his daily habits, I threatened to get him arrested. But karma had my back and dealt with him swiftly and in the best way possible!
After my divorce, I found myself at a crossroads, not just emotionally but financially as well. The split from my husband of three years had left my bank account bleeding. So, the only apartment I could afford was a tiny, sketchy, rundown place.
The apartment was managed by a landlord who gave me the creeps. His name was Mr. Thompson. I was thirty-five, trying to piece my life back together, and moving into that apartment felt like a step backward. But I wasn’t in a position to be picky.
The first thing Mr. Thompson told me when I wanted to sign the lease was that he had one rule he wanted me to follow. His weird request was that I had to take care of his plants. Now, his rule might not have been a problem, but the entire apartment was filled with them!
I mean, they were EVERYWHERE! From the living room to the bathroom, it was like stepping into a jungle! It was obvious that this man was OBSESSED! I didn’t mind the plants that much, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming!
“If you want to live here, you have to take care of these plants,” he said sternly, his eyes boring into mine.
I nodded, thinking it was a strange request but not something worth arguing about. I figured I could manage with them; besides, I didn’t have much of a choice.
Little did I know, this was the beginning of Mr. Thompson’s peculiarities. Without wasting any time or allowing me to get used to the new place and arrangement, he started calling me from day one!
He called me many times a week, always checking up on the plants. “Did you water the ficus today?” he’d ask. “Have you checked for aphids on the spider plant?” “Have a look at the money plant and ensure it doesn’t have bugs. Did you rotate them for adequate sunlight?”
His calls were RELENTLESS, and it wasn’t long before I felt like I was living in a horticultural boot camp!
I remember one day vividly. I had just returned from work, exhausted and looking forward to a quiet evening. As I unlocked the door, I heard my phone ring. It was Mr. Thompson.
“Miss Davis, did you remember to water the philodendron today?” he asked, his voice overly concerned.
“Yes, Mr. Thompson.” I sighed. “I watered it this morning.”
“And the peace lily? It looked a bit droopy last time I saw it.”
“I took care of it, too. Everything’s fine,” I replied, trying to keep my frustration in check.
“Good, good. You know how important these plants are to me,” he said before finally hanging up.
But little did I know that the worst was still to come!
One evening, I came home from a long day at work and noticed something was off. My mail, which I always left on the kitchen counter, was scattered across the table. The remote control wasn’t where I’d left it, and a mug that should have been in the sink was back in the cupboard!
At first, I tried to brush it off as forgetfulness or that I was just losing it, but it kept happening. Almost every day, I started noticing weird things. I’d come home to find things slightly out of place as if someone was moving them
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