My neighbor’s undies stole the spotlight right outside my 8-year-old son’s window for weeks. When he innocently asked if her thongs were slingshots, I knew it was time to end this panty parade and teach her a serious lesson in laundry etiquette.
Ah, suburbia! Where the grass is always greener on the other side, mainly because your neighbor’s sprinkler system is better than yours. That’s where I, Kristie, wife of Thompson, decided to plant my roots with my 8-year-old son, Jake. Life was as smooth as a freshly botoxed forehead until our new neighbor, Lisa, moved in next door.
