After Lisa, my new neighbor, came in, things had been, let’s say, anything but tranquil. It wasn’t your typical rude neighbor, complete with loud music and an unkempt lawn. No, Lisa’s method of upsetting the peace in our lives was far more unusual. It all began one windy afternoon while I was assisting my son Jake, who is eight years old, in cleaning his room.
I was startled to see Lisa’s underwear—not just a few pieces, but a rainbow of panties—hanging openly in front of Jake’s window as I peered out his bedroom window. I felt embarrassed. I hurried over, shut the curtains, and prayed it was just a chance accident on laundry day. But the following day and the day after that, it was evident that this was no coincidence. Lisa’s “flags” were there every morning, fluttering in the wind as though they were commemorating some strange occasion.
What’s up with Mrs. Lisa hanging her panties outside my window, Mom? Jake inquired, his naive perplexity adding to the awkwardness of the occasion.
I initially attempted to ignore it. This was just one of those awkward neighbor situations that would take care of itself, surely. However, I was unable to tolerate this everyday show after a week. Enough was enough.
One bright afternoon, I plucked up the guts to approach Lisa. In an attempt to sound friendly, I walked up to her in the front yard. “Hey Lisa, is there any way you could hang your clothes a bit further down the line? Right there is my son’s window, which is a little odd.
Her answer? Why should I give a damn about your son? My yard is that! Be more resilient.
I was astonished as I stood there. Was she being serious? She didn’t just behave like I was being unreasonable; she also refused to be a good neighbor. My blood boiled. Furiously, I returned inside, but I halted. With Lisa, I came to the realization that it would be futile to fight fire with fire. Oh no, something far more imaginative was required.
The following day, I implemented my plan while seeing Lisa hang up her customary parade of underwear. I didn’t do anything till she was finished and safely inside. I had spent the night before ordering the most absurd washing products I could find online: enormous neon boxers, tent-sized bras, and underwear with the most outrageous designs—polka dots, stripes, you name it.
I went to our garden, which was conveniently located across from Lisa’s clothesline, and started assembling my new “wardrobe” after getting it. It was an impressive sight. A dash of ridiculousness was provided by the bras, which appeared to have been worn by a circus clown, and the huge boxers flapping in the wind. The highlight of the show was a pair of underwear that was certainly visible from space. It was dazzlingly brilliant yellow, covered with enormous emojis.
Lisa quickly became aware of it. Her face as red as a tomato, she ran out of her home. She yelled, “What in the world are you doing?” and gestured at my ridiculous performance.
“Oh,” I said, giving her the best look I could manage, “I thought we were going to start a neighborhood laundry competition.” I thought I’d participate. Ultimately, isn’t that my yard?
For a brief moment, Lisa’s mouth was wide open before she sighed and strode back inside. That day, I didn’t hear from her again. However, you know what? She somehow moved her clothes to the far side of her yard, well out of Jake’s window, by the next morning.
Success.
Our home was peaceful again after that day, and Jake didn’t wake up to Lisa’s laundry every morning. It turns out that teaching someone how to be a good neighbor may sometimes be accomplished with just a little comedy, a lot of imagination, and perhaps some enormous polka-dot boxers.