I was nice when I saw that you had lent MY coat to your grubby, non-bathing cousin…I let you off with a "just ask me first next time".

I only copped the slightest attitude when you dropped your used pad in the toilet and just left it there, floating in piss.

I didn’t make you hunt down and replace the signed, first edition of my favorite novel that you borrowed and left on the subway.

I let you have free use of the bountiful office supplies that I took the time to smuggle home from work.

I didn’t flip out and kill you when I came home a day early from vacation and found a strange man sleeping in my bed at 4:00AM…I let you off easy with a firm "Don’t do that again" and my dry cleaning bill.

I didn’t go apeshit when you wrote down all my messages for that week while I was on vacation so that you could delete them to free up space on the answering machine…and then lost the notebook in which you wrote all of them.

And let’s not forget the numerous articles of clothing that you have returned stained, ripped, stretched, and/or stinky.

Overall, I’m a very laid-back person and although these things that you have done in the past did upset me, I didn’t see the point in getting myself all worked up about them. I wasn’t a doormat and let you get away with everything. I’ve always let you know when you’ve pissed me off and what you could do to remedy the situation. But there is NO remedy for the heinous crime you have committed against me this past weekend. You have violated the SACRED unspoken rule amongst ALL women. YOU DO NOT FUCK WITH A WOMAN’S SHOES!!!!

I had those boots for 3 years! They were perfect…THE most perfect pair of boots any woman could ever ask for. They were comfortable, sexy, broken-in…I could wear them with jeans, skirts, dresses, and suits. Whenever I wore them I received compliments. I took impeccable care of them and you KNEW they were forever off limits to you. And what do I find today upon returning from a very LONG weekend visiting my parents? The ravaged, irreparable remains of my once-beautiful boots, chewed to pieces by your friend’s enormous horse of a dog that you were oh so kind enough to watch for her while she spent the weekend recovering from her boob job! I KNOW that when I left on Thursday night that my bedroom door was closed. How do I know? Because I always close my bedroom door. And even if I did leave my bedroom door open I didn’t know that there was going to be a dog in the apartment and YOU should have shut my door if you saw that it was open. What type of person starts off an apology with "I was watching ____’s dog for the weekend and I guess you left your bedroom door open… "?

Fuck you, cunt! We have 2 months left on the lease…2 more months and then I never have to see or speak to your sorry ass again. But until that time comes…it’s war. You may think that all is well, but just wait. Moping around the apartment ignoring you could be fun, but not as much fun as subjecting you to subtle psychological torture for the next 8 weeks. Let the fun begin…bitch, it is ON!