Begone

It's strange to think that for the past 18 months or so I've been bound in a curious symbiotic relationship with someone I've never even met. It stems from a mutually beneficial pact: In return for a few brick walls, the odd amenity or two, and shelter from the elements, my tenant has been graciously paying my mortgage on a more or less regular basis (less regular than I sometimes would have preferred, but everything seems to have balanced out thus far). Our lives have never intersected beyond this dependency. We've never conversed, never interacted - save through the machinations of a lettings agency - and never once laid eyes on one another.

I'm somewhat conflicted as to how I should feel now that I've finally moved to terminate this unspoken (though thoroughly contracted) bond of ours. I expected to feel perhaps a pang of regret, and most certainly a strong tide of guilt. I am after all evicting someone from their home of 18 months. Strangely though, these emotions are most notable by their absence. I will apologise to you, the nameless flat renting entity that you are to me. I do dislike the idea that I should be making you homeless during the festive season. I'd rather it was another time, but then I doubt there is an ideal time for my perfidy. And at the same time I can't disguise the little part of me that's even now jumping up and down with glee at the prospect of your vacating my premises. No regret. No guilt. I do appreciate all that you've done for me, but I hope that you'll understand that I really can't wait to see the back of you.

Hmm, what a novel concept this "no guilt" thing is...