Parenting is hard enough without your neighbor turning their backyard into a lingerie billboard aimed at your kid’s bedroom.
That’s what happened when Lisa moved in next door and started airing her very personal laundry right outside my son’s window. At first, I ignored it—until Jake asked if her thongs were “hamster hammocks.”
I tried the polite route. “Lisa, could you maybe not turn my child’s window into a peep show?”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re just clothes. Lighten up.”
Oh, I lightened up—by sewing the loudest, most absurd pair of underwear imaginable and hanging them in her sightline.
Lisa came home to find giant, flamingo-print granny panties flapping proudly in the wind. Her scream could’ve shattered glass.
“TAKE THEM DOWN!”
“Why?” I blinked innocently. “I thought we were sharing our laundry now?”
The next day, Lisa’s scandalous collection was gone. And Jake? He now believes all superheroes wear neon underwear.
Moral of the story? Don’t mess with a mom who owns a sewing machine.
