Neighbors are hit and miss, but if you live in an apartment or another space with shared walls, people usually realize it’s in their best interest to play nice and get along.

OP and her friends moved off campus into a house with a separate downstairs apartment. Even though they were responsible for all of the utilities, the rent was too good to pass up.

In college, my two friends and I decided to find a place together off-campus. We found a beautiful three-bedroom house with surprisingly affordable rent.

The basement of the house was listed as a separate apartment, but as it had a separate entrance and the indoor stairwell had been blocked off, we weren’t worried. And the thermostat was upstairs.

At least, that’s what they thought until a woman with a smoking habit, a meth habit, and a penchant for screaming moved in downstairs.

Then the demon neighbor moved in. From upstairs, we could hear everything. This adult woman would call her mother and scream at her to pay for her cellphone bills and give her “grocery” money (aka Taco Bell and cheap tequila), she would scream at whatever guy she was sleeping with to bring her meth, and one day, she brought home three puppies to scream at, too.

We were terrified of this woman, and the noise was hell. Also, we’d been idiotic enough to sign a lease stating we were responsible for all utilities, period, meaning we were now financing her gas, water, and electric. But with only two months left on the lease, we thought we could just ride it out.

But then she started smoking. Constantly. According to the landlord, she’d “quit for good” when she’d signed the lease, but “for good” only lasted two days. Since it was winter, the heat was running nearly 24/7, and the smoke was wafting up from the vents. Our apartment and all our belongings began to reek with smoke.

Despite all of their complaints, the landlord maintained she was not doing anything illegal or that could get her evicted.

We contacted the landlord, because we’d signed for a bloody non-smoking apartment.

He told us we lived in a state where you could technically call an apartment non-smoking even if it shared ventilation with a smoking apartment. (Eff you, leasing laws).

When OP’s roommates abandoned her for two weeks she decided it was time to get serious. So she bundled up, bought a lot of hot drinks, got 911 on speed dial, and turned off the heat.

At this point, my two roommates were heading out for a two-week vacation (they were online students, while I was residential), leaving me alone in the apartment with the demon smoker in the basement.

I couldn’t sleep or eat, because my idiotic stomach decided to react to all the secondhand smoke by aching and cramping constantly.

After three days, I was a little insane. I made a plan.

I checked the forecast: lows in the 20s all week. I borrowed a friend’s ultra-insulated sleeping bag. I bought one of those ski masks with the holes for your eyes and mouth.

I got out my stocking cap, my silk long underwear, my woolen socks, and my down parka. I bought tea, hot cocoa, and ramen, and prepared to live off a diet of hot liquids.

And I turned off the heat.

After a couple days of the woman complaining, the landlord showed up and OP let him know she was not backing down.

Day 1: She’s screaming at her mother for forcing her to move into this frozen piece of **** of an apartment.

Day 2: She’s screaming at her boyfriend (dealer?) because he won’t let her move in with him.

Day 3: She’s screaming at the landlord about how she’s freezing.

Day 4: The landlord is at my door. I greet him in full ski mask/parka/stocking cap array, looking like I’m heading out to rob Santa Claus at the North Pole. He asks me if I don’t find it a little chilly in the house. I reply I’d found all the cigarette smoke a little warm.

She won, and did not need to call the police – that said, lessons were learned.

Day 5: She’s screaming about “THE BISHES UPSTAIRS” to anyone who will listen, and I’m sitting upstairs clutching my car keys and my pepper spray with 911 typed into my phone.

She finally decides she’s leaving and moving in with Greg, “even though he just got out for stabbing Travis, and he lives in that creepy house in the woods with all those  biting dogs.”

Day 6: She’s GONE. I silently bless Greg.

Moral of the story: There’s a bloody reason the rent seems too good to be true.

I bet Reddit is going to clap this woman on the back!

Other people have had success with similar tricks.

You’d think the lady in the basement would have realized she needed to be nice.

This setup can work for normal, sober people, apparently.

It really is like rolling the dice, though.

They approved of OP’s smart aleck responses, too.

I’m super proud of OP.

Very creative, 10/10.