Stalker?

When we returned this weekend, we found that we were locked out of half the house.  I had arrived first and realized that I wouldn't be able to do my laundry.  Because of the tininess of my room, I decided to leave the luggage with dirty clothes out in the hallway between our rooms.  Allow me a diagram.
Stan's Door|-----------------------@luggage@@@@--------|My door

Stan got here maybe 40 minutes after me.  When he realized the door was locked (he wanted to do laundry too) he came storming to my room.
Stan (while on phone): "Did you know that the door is locked?"
Me: "Yes, I did."
Stan: "Did you call the landlord?"
Me: "Nope, I was busy unpacking (and still was doing so at this point).  I can-"
Stan: "I'll call her."
Me: *thinking* "I'll give him his moment..." "Ok, call her."
Stan: "Right after I call my grandparents."

He proceeded to have a very curt conversation with them, so curt he pretty much hung up on them at the end, and then he called our landlord.  Now Stan doesn't have the knack for having normal volume conversation, so I can hear him on his phone from down the hall.  And it's obvious from his speaking/yelling that he has been forwarded to voicemail.  Obviously, I heard every word, but he came and told me that he only got her voicemail.  Followed by him coming back to my open door, so I can see and hear everything that he does, and saying:
Stan: "Yeah, she hasn't called me back, but I'll forward the information to you when I find out more."
Me: *clearly on my way to the shower* "Great."

You may be asking why I gave you a diagram above.  Refer back to it now.  While I was heading to the shower, Stan confronted me.

Stan: "Can you move the luggage?  I'm afraid I might trip over it."
The distance...from his door to the luggage...is 1.5 of his steps.  Basically, he would have to be trying to kick the luggage in order to kick the luggage.  It is also directly in front of my door.
Me: "...You want me to move it...even though...it's pretty much on my side?"
Stan: "I'm afraid that I'll go to the bathroom during the night and trip over it."
Me: "..."
Stan: "I mean, I don't have a problem with putting it in the living room."
Me (thinking): "No, of course not, it's my stuff, and I do have a problem with putting the luggage there."

Anyway, I get out of the shower and get dressed.  My door is open again.  Stan...felt the need to update me at 1130 with the fact that our landlord had not called back.

I believe he's trying to have a competition with me over who can stay/work the longest at work.  I really don't see the point of this competition.  He's told me every detail of all of his projects and his current status on all of them is:
Project 1: Waiting for funding
Project 2: Waiting for info
Project 3: Waiting for info
Project 4: Waiting for people to get back to him

Basically, he pretty much sits in his office all day doing nothing.  Sorry, I take that back.  I can empirically prove my previous statement wrong.  I was on the floor at 515 pm, almost 11 hours after I arrived at work, and I was talking with vendors.  I saw Stan walk by, looking very lost and confused...in his own department.  He saw me and started walking over, but I was clearly very busy, so he didn't try to talk to me.  Thus, Stan doesn't just sit in his office.  He walks around looking stupid too.

Later today, our landlord did come back and open the door for us.  It had been an accident that the door was locked.  In order to go to our rooms, we have to pass this very conspicuous door after we walk into the apartment.  I sat in my room and just relaxed at my computer when he came home and knocked annoyingly on my door to tell me he got back.  

Me: "Yeah, the landlord came and unlocked the door.  Said it was an accident."
Stan: "Really?  I'll have to go back and check."

I just...don't understand...how he could have missed the door on his way in.  Well...to be fair, it has a large window...so maybe he's like a bird and just didn't realize the clear part was a "wall."

Stan then told me that he had to stop to let wild turkeys pass in front of him.  He asked, in a bragging voice, if I had seen the turkeys at all.  Well...I had told him on the first day that I had seen them...so now...
Me: "Yeah...I saw them on the first day here, I told you already."
Stan: "Yeah...I also saw a deer.  It ran away.  From my huge 4 cylinder SUV."

When Stan did his laundry today, he came to my room with a HUGE revelation.
Stan: "DID YOU KNOW THAT ALL WASHERS HAVE THE HINGE ON THE LEFT?"
Me: "....No...they don't....they're user-adjustable..."
Stan: "But they're ALWAYS on the left side.  Dryers are ALWAYS on the right side.  I've NEVER seen it any other way."
Me: "Well...I have it the other way at home...You seriously just need to get a screwdriver to change it."
Stan: "Well, no one I know has the hinge on the right."

I confronted Stan about his not washing the dishes.  I let him get away with it in the beginning.  Then I realized that he wasn't gonna do them...I realized this when he filled a sink with dirty dishes and just kept adding more.  After I confronted him the first time, he said he'd wash the dishes once a day.  Fine, I thought, better than once a week.  He was good about it for a week.  Then, he let everything sit.  He didn't even rinse stuff out.  He had drank milk in a glass and instead of rinsing the glass, he just poured water in it and let it sit for 4 days.  With milk-water.  That was going bad.  So tonight:

Me: "Dude, do the dishes."
Stan: "But I haven't eaten dinner yet (1030)."
Me: "Do them after dinner, then do them after every meal."
Stan: "Why?"
Me: "Because you aren't cleaning them at all."
Stan: "I'm rinsing things out!"
Me: "No...your breakfast is literally in the sink...and before that you had a glass of milk that you just poured water into and let sit for 4 days as a milkwater filled glass.  So it really is just easier to do them after every meal, so just do it that way."
Stan: "Even after breakfast?"
Me: (thinking: wtf...yes breakfast is a meal...are you that retarded?) "Yeah, it's not that hard, it takes like 5 minutes."

So why is he a stalker?  Stan looked up my SN somewhere just to tell me that his clothes needed drying.  He couldn't just tell me.