I survived, this time

Good news: I survived the night and completed the job! No thanks to my nasty cunty SKERF of a next door neighbour, I might add.
I thought about the logistics and scoped out the area, and I concluded that I could use my OWN balcony – the one I’ve been using for ages (when I’m identifying as Gaspar Milligan and not as a cover) to smoke on outside, so I can sell the flat more easily if I need to disappear or launder a few mil.
I was reduced to MAKING MY OWN TEA AND SANDWICHES though. It was completely degrading and unacceptable! Plus, I could have died. I mean, I didn’t, but I could have! Kitchens are dangerous places, you know.
What to do now, friends and allies? I can’t kill her or even put a hit on her and get Dmitry to do it, because she lives in my apartment complex and even the Metropolitan Police would guess I had something to do with it.
So I did the next best thing: I wrote an anonymous note reading “PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE THE REASON HITMEN END UP IN THE DUMPSTER BEHIND WAITROSE, WRAPPED UP IN ROLLS OF CARPET” and slipped it under her door. She’ll feel so guilty! ^_^ Serves her right for doing feminism wrong!