When my landlord, Amanda, tossed my belongings into the trash and locked me out, I thought I’d lost everything. But just 24 hours later, I watched her move her own furniture to the curb, as she faced eviction herself. That was pure karma.

Since turning 18, I’d been determined to live independently, despite my parents’ warnings about the harsh realities of the world. After years of moving from one rental to another, I finally found a perfect apartment. The landlord’s daughter, Amanda, handled everything, and the place seemed great—until my washing machine started making a terrible noise. I asked Amanda to fix it, but she dismissed it as nothing.