“Hi. I am your neighbor. I thought you might like to know that there is someone living in your shed. Ok, bye.”
I always wondered what was in that shed located behind the apartment building. I’ve walked by it many mornings when I circle around the back to check the dumpsters on my way to my car. In six months, I have never actually looked inside. Maybe I should have? Or. . . maybe it’s good that I didn’t?
This is the shed ——–>
The Fella accompanied me to investigate because there was no way in hell I was going alone. It’s a small plastic shed with locked doors but the roof of it was loose and in two parts so someone could easily climb into it.
When we pulled back the top we saw this ——>
The contents include:
- A makeshift bed
- A large suitcase
- Three liters of Mountain Dew
- A cup full of cigarette butts
- A mini-fire extinguisher
- A small hand-held broom
- A half-eaten candy cane
- A discman
My first thought was something like, “King Ick could be squatting here.” Because yes, I did once date a homeless guy, thanks for asking. And no, I don’t feel like talking about that asshole.
I stood there pondering what to do. Legally, I should call the authorities and have this person busted for trespassing BUT my sympathetic nature wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. So. . . I wrote a note that basically said: clear out by the morning or I will call the police. The next morning when I, with trepidation, pulled back the top all that was left was the suitcase, the sodas and the fire extinguisher. He took the important stuff like the bed and the cigarette cup.
Then I called the landlord so she could hire someone to haul it away because I have enough to deal with without adding illegal squatters to the list. Apparently this is not the first time someone has played house in the shed. But it will be the last.