To My Willis Street Landlord

Dear Landlady,

Enough is enough. You have made a decision to lease out your three bedroom apartment to us. You have made a decision to place the desire for money over privacy. You have made the decision to lease your place to three guys.

Now you do a backflip. You complain that we are too noisy, we have too many friends, we dirty your damn kitchen. You complain, we compromise. We sought for your wisdom, your greviances and your regulations. Instead of coming clean with us, you choose to hide in your shell. You open your mouth only to say hi, but leave post-its the next morning to scold us for not washing the plates. We ask to talk to you, but we got your foul mouth, blacker than black face mother instead.

Armed with a walking stick, she climbs two hills to confront me in her heavily indon-accented mandarin. She tells us that she has only leased this place to three people, she expects to only see 1 person per room. She tells us that we cannot make too much noise. She tells us that she is old, she can't be stuffed to lease out her place for $200 a week and entertain our rubbish. She doesn't need the money anymore. Oh wait, why were you so enthusiastic to lease me the place, the moment I asked for it? I have no idea.

So we set aside our social life. We compromised. We now gather around the dinner table and speak in constipated whispers. The only noise emanating from the table is the sound of the cutlery. Oh no, that is not tolerable again. Somehow, the clinking of the spoon against the pot causes you to stir fitfully in your sleep. Somehow, those constipated whispers become aggravated bellows to your ears. Somehow, our social life just serves to remind you of your lack of one. Perhaps, you are jealous.

You storm out of your room in rage. You tell us to take our party elsewhere or ship out. You can't sleep because we are having dinner at 9.30pm? That is incredulous. We are not blasting music or having a house party right at your doorstep, we are having dinner. How on earth you can't differentiate dinner and having a party is simply astounding.

My dear landlady, if you are blinded by money, then you have actually have to tolerate tenants in your house. You can't have money and no noise at the same time. You told us to tone down, we have done it. You set the rules via your old fart mother, we have abided. You have now gone overboard. To tell us to be complete mute is against our human rights. We have every right to personal space and creature comforts. If you cannot tolerate even this, then please live in Siberia.

Enough is enough. Your animated tirade is the straw that will break even the sturdiest of camel's back. It is now mutual hate and intolerance. I am a patient man. While my housemate has lost his patience, I wanted to give you another chance. But you surprise me time and time again by tightening the noose around our already fragile neck.

It is time we stand up and fight for our rights to live.