Dear fucktard who happens to live in the other room in this apartment:
You know, I don't mind you being out for entire weekends. Hell, if I had my way, I wouldn't mind seeing you gone for weeks at a time, because it helps my sanity if you're not present. But there's a bunch of things you could do to make this better for the both of us.
One, clear your fucking dishrack before you leave. I hate trying to do stuff in the kitchen and having to work around it. You are perfectally aware just how small our kitchen is, and I'm sure you could do something to make sure the both of us have room to work in there. I am perfectally capable of washing, rinsing, and drying my dishes all at the same time. I'm sure you could do the same. And that excuse about how you don't want to wake me up with pan banging and stuff? I sleep like the dead. You might recall me asking you to let me know if the fire alarm goes off and I'm sleeping. That excuse doesn't hold water.
Two, and I know you don't like to talk to me, let alone tell me what your plans are, but it would be nice to know that I'm not going to see your fucking face (or at least hear you leaving your room...can't you file a maintenance request to fix that fucking squeaky door?) for an entire weekend, so I don't start wondering if there's a body rotting in your room. It would be simple to combine these two requests and clear your fucking dishrack so that I know you're gone for the weekend, and then you wouldn't even have to talk to me.
Three, being gone all weekend is not a fucking excuse to ignore your own rules. I'm home more than you think, and I've not once heard the vacuum run when I know you're home this semester. Nor do I think you're doing any cleaning in the bathroom or the kitchen because of the state of both floors. Of course, I think you set up the fucking rules so that I would become your fucking maid instead of your fucking houseguest. I only had this confirmed by my fucking attempts to compromise with you on the rules. When you look at me in disgust because I suggest either having a schedule so that we're not walking all over each other attempting to do our jobs, or asking you to mop, and in exchange I'll do all the vacuuming, then I know you're really seriously not going to follow your own rules. If you're not going to live up to them, I'm going to start thinking of you like I did about Chandon, one of my roommates freshman year...wants the place clean, but is never home to do anything about it.
Four, stop burning the fucking incense when you are home. It's against housing policy. I know you've been in the reshall system two years and I know you're aware that they're paranoid about fire hazards. And I know you leave the incense burning and step away. Nor do you clean up the fscking ash that spills all over where you're burning it.
Thank you for your consideration of these requests.