The second shittiest roommate I ever had was a loud evangelical.

I was at the time actively the closest thing she would ever meet to a particular famous dude who died on the thing she worshipped, who she claimed to care about.

When she started fucking with my shit while I was out, I just made a bunch of copies of the house key and handed them out, so I’d have people to watch my door for me. Started cooking big dinners. She couldn’t actually say anything.

The trick is; don’t Fucking ask. Point out that sleeping in the park sucks and will get you killed by police, but meetings in the park are genuinely pleasant (unless climate change is real). They might shoot you, but they won’t be able to argue.