My Upstairs Neighbor Threw Used Tea Bags Onto My Balcony Twice a Day — So I Finally Taught Him a Lesson

For weeks, my upstairs neighbor Greg threw his used tea bags onto my balcony twice a day.

7 a.m.

9 p.m.

Like clockwork.

At first, I assumed it was accidental. I picked them up and threw them away.

Then one landed on a white towel I’d left outside and left a huge brown stain.

I went upstairs.

“I’m sorry,” Greg said. “I’m half asleep. I just flick it over the railing.”

He promised it wouldn’t happen again.

The next morning, another tea bag landed on my balcony.

I gave him three more weeks.

Then one landed on my chair and ruined the cushion.

I went upstairs again.

“You’re still doing it.”

He looked at me and laughed.

“You live underneath. That’s how buildings work.”

Then he added:

“You’re lucky it’s tea bags and not something else.”

That was the moment I stopped asking nicely.

The next morning, I sat on my balcony with my coffee and waited.

At 7:04, Greg threw another tea bag over the railing.

But this time, it hit a clear panel I’d installed above my balcony.

Tap.

It slid down into a tray I’d placed underneath.

Greg looked over the railing.

“What the hell is that?”

“My new tea-bag catcher.”

“You built that because of a tea bag?”

“No,” I said. “I built it because of 43 of them.”

His face changed.

After that, something strange happened.

The tea bags started landing around the sides of the panel.

One landed beside my plants.

Another hit my balcony door.

Another landed in a flowerpot.

I took pictures of every one.

Suddenly, Greg couldn’t claim it was accidental anymore.

I saved the photographs, the damaged towel, the ruined cushion cover, and the dates and times of every incident.

A few days later, Greg knocked on my door.

“Take that stupid thing down.”

“Why?”

“It looks ridiculous.”

“I checked the building rules. Everything is within my balcony.”

He pointed at the panel.

“You’re doing all this over tea bags?”

“No. I’m doing it because asking you nicely didn’t work.”

Then he made one mistake.

“Fine. I’ll just throw them farther.”

A neighbor standing nearby heard him.

“I was joking,” Greg quickly said.

But I knew I had enough.

At our next residents’ meeting, I brought my photographs and the damaged items.

Greg immediately complained.

“It’s a tea bag!”

The building manager looked at him.

“It’s still your garbage.”

Then he saw the photographs showing the tea bags landing farther away after I installed the panel.

“Why did they suddenly start landing in different places?”

Greg had no answer.

My neighbor spoke up.

“I heard him say he’d throw them farther.”

Greg admitted it.

The building manager gave him a formal warning.

He also ordered Greg to reimburse me for the damaged items.

But then came the part Greg really didn’t expect.

He had recently requested permission to install privacy screening on his balcony.

Because he’d admitted deliberately throwing things from that balcony, the manager postponed his request.

Greg was furious.

“You’re denying it because of tea?”

“No,” the manager said. “I’m postponing it because you’ve admitted deliberately throwing objects after being asked to stop.”

After the meeting, Greg confronted me.

“You made me look like an idiot over tea.”

I looked at him.

“No. I showed them what you were doing. You handled the rest yourself.”

He walked away.

And for the first time in weeks, nothing fell onto my balcony.

Not at 7.

Not at 9.

Not the next morning either.

After four days, I took the panel down.

My balcony looked normal again.

My plants were safe.

My new cushion stayed clean.

And I stopped looking up every time Greg opened his door.

A week later, a delivery driver asked me to accept a package for Greg.

Normally, I would have.

I’d done it many times before.

But this time I said:

“Sorry. He’ll have to collect it himself.”

That evening, Greg confronted me.

“You always used to take my packages.”

“I did.”

“So now you’re refusing?”

“I’m not refusing anything. Your deliveries aren’t my responsibility.”

He stared at me.

I opened my door and said:

“I used to do favors for a neighbor who respected my home.”

Then I went inside.

I never wanted a feud.

I just wanted my balcony back.

And I learned something important:

Being a good neighbor doesn’t mean accepting bad behavior just to keep the peace.

Sometimes, the best response isn’t anger.

It’s documentation, patience, and letting someone’s own actions speak for themselves.

And after 43 tea bags, one ruined towel, and a damaged cushion…

my balcony was finally mine again.