She put the bag of garbage from her room (which is, pardon me, lazy and fucking gross) in them, and put them in the storage closet none of us knew we had. (The day I got here, Mum and I tested every door on the floor that wasn't an apartment looking for the laundry room and only one opened - and it was the laundry room.)
So she isn't as evil as I thought she was, but it still would have been nice if she'd said she was moving my shit, or at least asked if I minded her moving it. And had just taken her fucking garbage out instead of locking it in a non-ventilated room. It's been there, like, a week. Ewwwwww.