So even before The Dude and I decided to move in together, I was already pretty sure that I was going to move out of apartment when my lease expired. For one thing, had I renewed my lease, then I would have turned 30 while I was still living in this apartment. I’m not freaked out about turning 30 or anything (I say now, as a youthful 28 year old), but I felt like, when that birthday came and went, I would not want to be living in a tiny two bedroom with someone who I met on Craigslist. Instead, I feel like age 30 is when, if you can afford it, you should only have a roommate if you are currently sleeping with that person. Hence me moving in with The Dude.

But also? My apartment is kind of a shit hole. Well, not my apartment per se, but my building. It’s a shitty walk-up that is “cleaned” by our “maintenance staff” approximately once every 6 to 8 months. I’ve never actually spoken to our super – instead, we communicate through cryptic post-it notes that he leaves on a bulletin board downstairs. Also on this bulletin board is a lovely note from a tenant which says, “Clean this shit hole!” Homey.

But perhaps most importantly, there is something about my apartment building that is really disturbing. Like, honest to god, I think this is a health code violation, I nearly shit my pants the first time I saw it, disturbing. And here it is.

This is a little door in the stairwell, right next to the front door of my apartment. Like, the dark green on the left side of the photo is my apartment’s door jam. So if I am facing my front door, this little door is directly to my right.

For a long time, I didn’t know what was in there. I assumed it was storage or something. Every once in a while, I saw an old man that lives one floor above me walking out of the door, but again, I just thought, oh, maybe he keeps boxes in there or something. Because that is what would normally be behind a little door in their stairwell, right?

Right?

Wrong.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what is behind that door. A FUCKING TOILET. A NASTY, DISGUSTING, HOLY SHIT HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN THERE TOILET. A toilet that is STILL OPERATIONAL, apparently, because there is FUCKING TOILET PAPER ON A ROLL. And A MAN, WHO LIVES IN MY BUILDING, USES IT. FREQUENTLY. What you can’t see in this picture (because no fucking way I’m sticking around in front of that thing to take two pictures) is a single light bulb, on a chain, that hangs down from the ceiling. BECAUSE THE TOILET ALONE WASN’T TERRIFYING ENOUGH.

The first time that I came home and saw the little door left open, exposing the MOTHERFUCKING TOILET that was behind it, I tried to put the whole thing out of my head. I tried to think about how cheap my rent was. I tried to think about how nice my actual apartment was, which had things such as its own working plumbing system and actual light fixtures. I tried to find some common ground with the scary old man who continues to use the toilet (we both like our toilet paper in the same “under” position, for example). But after a while, it got to be too much for me. I had one too many nightmares about being trapped in that room. And so, not only am I moving in with my boyfriend, but I am moving the fuck away from a terrifying, disgusting, horrific TOILET where I imagine multiple people have been tortured, if not killed.

However, if any of you think that you’re the next Eli Roth, drop me a line. Because I know of a PERFECT movie location for you to use.