When I first moved in with my roommate, I thought we’d be sharing a peaceful, adult space. We were both young professionals, and the apartment was supposed to be our sanctuary. But that illusion shattered when I came home one day to find toddlers crawling across the living room floor, toys scattered everywhere, and my roommate casually announcing, “Oh, I’m running a daycare now.”
No warning. No discussion. Just chaos.
I was stunned. She’d turned our shared home into a business without asking me. The noise, the mess, the liability—it was overwhelming. I tried to be civil. I asked her to reconsider, to find a proper space for her venture. But she brushed me off, saying, “It’s temporary,” and “You’re overreacting.”
Temporary turned into weeks. Then months.
My work-from-home job suffered. I couldn’t concentrate with screaming kids in the background. My belongings were constantly moved or damaged. Worst of all, she started using my things—my dishes, my towels, even my laptop—without permission. I felt like a stranger in my own home.
So I decided to take action.
First, I documented everything. Photos, videos, timestamps. I researched local zoning laws and discovered she was violating multiple regulations by running a daycare in a residential apartment without a license. I also found out our lease strictly prohibited commercial activity.
Then I made a few calls.
I contacted our landlord and shared the evidence. He was furious. Not only was she breaching the lease, but she was putting the entire building at risk. Within days, she received a formal eviction notice.
But I wasn’t done.
I also filed a complaint with the city’s licensing department. They launched an investigation, and she was fined for operating an unlicensed daycare. Parents who had trusted her were notified, and many pulled their children out immediately.
She begged me to help her fix things. Said she was just trying to make ends meet. But I reminded her: she never asked. She never respected our shared space. She made her choices—and now she had to face the consequences.
After she moved out, peace returned. I could finally breathe again. The apartment felt like home.
And while I don’t take joy in someone else’s downfall, I do believe in accountability. If you disrespect boundaries, you should expect pushback.
