I hope the mean dog on 4 takes a bite out of your ass, Mr. Mailman

I hate my mailman.

I have never met him face-to-face, or even seen him in person. I could not pick him out of a line-up. But I assure you, WE ARE AT WAR.

My mailman knows that John Wysnewski hasn't lived in 5K for 5 years. He knows this because, for 5 years now, he continues to leave me his mail. I take it out of the mailbox and place it on top of the row of mailboxes, where it may join the other misplaced letters. One would think that would be the end of it, no?

No, because what the mailman does the next day is put it back in my mailbox! We do this for three consecutive days, after which I grab a black sharpie and write in the largest possible letters "DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE." We do this at least once a week. For five years.

We also do this with Maria Lopez' mail and mail addressed to the Mom of roommate #2 who moved out almost three years ago.

Sometimes I get a catalog addressed to roommate #2's mom, and it ends up back in my mailbox with "or current resident" circled in pen. For the variety of offenses he has committed against me over the years, that's a hair that, in my opinion, should not be split.

In an unprecedented, passive-aggressive move, my mailman has now started putting mail with no apartment number in my mailbox. This time, he's gone too far. He will not win.