For weeks, my upstairs neighbor, Greg, threw his used tea bags over his balcony twice a day. They landed on mine around 7 a.m. and 9 p.m., staining towels, cushions, and anything else left outside. At first, I assumed it was accidental, so I quietly cleaned up after him.

After several incidents, I went upstairs and politely asked him to stop. He apologized and promised it wouldn’t happen again. The next morning, another tea bag landed beside my plants. When I confronted him again, he laughed. “You live underneath. That’s how buildings work.” Then he added, “You’re lucky it’s tea bags and not something else.”

I decided to give him one final chance. The next morning, another bag landed on my balcony. Instead of arguing, I bought a clear plastic panel and installed it within my balcony space. Beneath it, I placed a shallow tray to catch anything that came over the railing.

The next morning, Greg threw another tea bag. It hit the panel and dropped neatly into the tray. When he saw it, he demanded that I remove the “ridiculous” contraption. I calmly explained that I had installed it because of the 43 tea bags I’d collected. He insisted he didn’t think about where he threw them.

Then something changed. Once the panel blocked his usual target, tea bags started appearing around its edges and even hitting my balcony door. I photographed every incident, recorded the dates and times, and kept the damaged towel and cushion cover as evidence. His carelessness was becoming much harder to explain.

At the next residents’ meeting, I showed the building manager my photographs and explained that I’d already asked Greg twice to stop. A neighbor confirmed hearing Greg say he would “throw them farther.” The manager checked the building rules and issued Greg a formal warning. He also ordered Greg to reimburse me for the damaged items.

After that, the tea bags stopped. I eventually removed the panel, and my balcony finally felt peaceful again. A week later, Greg asked why I no longer accepted his deliveries. I reminded him that being a good neighbor didn’t mean being responsible for someone who repeatedly ignored my boundaries.

I never wanted a feud. I simply wanted him to stop. In the end, I didn’t need to shout, threaten, or retaliate. I kept records, followed the rules, and let Greg’s own actions speak for themselves. Sometimes protecting your peace means setting a boundary and refusing to keep giving someone chances to cross it.