For weeks, my neighbor’s underwear was the center of attention right outside my 8-year-old son’s window. He only meant well when he asked if her thongs were slingshots. I knew it was time to stop this panty show and teach her a serious lesson in how to do laundry properly.
Oh, the suburbs! Where the other side of the fence is always greener, mostly because your friend has a better sprinkler system than you do. That’s where my husband Thompson and I, Kristie, chose to settle down with our 8-year-old son Jake. Before Lisa moved in next door, life was as smooth as a new Botox lift on the face.
Tuesday was the first day. It was wash day, and I was folding a mountain of tiny superhero underwear because Jake was really into them at the time.
I almost choked on my coffee as I looked out his bedroom window. A pair of hot pink lace pants was blowing in the wind like the world’s most inappropriate flag.
They were not the only ones. Nope, they were not alone. There was a rainbow of underwear dancing in the wind right outside my son’s window.
.
I mumbled, “Holy guacamole,” and dropped a pair of Batman briefs. Do you think this is a laundry line or the Victoria’s Secret runway?
“Mom, why does Mrs. Lisa have her underwear outside?” Jake asked from behind me.
My face was burning worse than my dryer was broken. “Sorry, honey. Mrs. Lisa just… enjoys nature a lot. Hey, why don’t we drape these over here? Allow the laundry to be alone.
“But Mom,” Jake insisted, his eyes wide with innocence. “If Mrs. Lisa’s underwear likes being outside, shouldn’t mine go outside too?” “Perhaps her pink underwear and my Hulk underwear could become friends!”
I tried not to laugh so hard that it would turn into a sob of laughter. “Honey, your underwear is… shy.” It likes being inside, where it’s warm.
I couldn’t help but think, “Welcome to the neighborhood, Kristie,” as I pushed Jake out the door. I hope you brought a good sense of humor and strong blinds.
I looked forward to Lisa’s laundry show every week, just like I looked forward to a cold cup of coffee with a splash of curdled milk every morning.
Every day, a new set of pants showed up outside my son’s window, and I had to play the strange game “shield the child’s eyes” with them every day.
Jake came running in the kitchen one afternoon while I was making a snack. His face was so full of confusion and joy that it made my mom senses tingle with fear.
“Mom,” he said in that tone that always meant he was going to ask me a question I wasn’t ready for, “why does Mrs. Lisa have so many different colored underwear?” Why are some of them so little? With strings? Do they belong to her hamster or not?”
As I thought about Lisa’s response to the idea that her delicates were rodent-sized, I almost dropped the knife I was using to spread peanut butter.
“Well, honey,” I stuttered to buy some time, “everyone has different tastes in clothes.” “Even the ones we don’t see often.”
Jake gave me a wise nod, as if I had taught him something important. “So, it’s kind of like how I like my superhero underwear, but for adults?” At night, does Mrs. Lisa fight crime? Does that explain why her underwear is so small? For aerodynamics?”
I gasped for air because I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “Well, not really, honey. Lisa is not a superhero. She’s just very sure of herself.
Jake looked a little let down and said, “Oh.” After that, his face lit up again.
“But Mom, can I hang my underwear outside too if Mrs. Lisa can?” “I bet my Captain America boxers would look really cool if they flapped in the wind!”
“Sorry, buddy,” I told him as I ruffled his hair. “Your underwear is unique.” To keep your secret identity safe, it needs to stay hidden.
Though Jake didn’t say anything and ate his snack, I looked out the window at Lisa’s colorful underwear show.
This couldn’t keep going. It was time to talk to our friend who likes to show off.😏
I stomped over to Lisa’s house the next day.
When I rang the doorbell, I put on my best “concerned neighbor” smile, the same one I use to tell the HOA, “No, my garden gnomes are not offensive; they’re just fun.”
Lisa answered, and she looked like she was straight out of a shampoo ad.
“Hello there! “Kristie, am I right?” She made a face.
“That’s right!” Lisa, I’d like to talk to you about something.
She put her back against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” What are you thinking about? Do you need a cup of sugar? Or how about a cup of confidence?” She looked at my mom’s pants and t-shirt with a critical eye.
I took a deep breath and told myself that I wasn’t colored jail orange. “It’s about your laundry.” To be exact, where you hang it.”
Lisa raised her nicely plucked eyebrows. “My laundry?” What do you think? Is it too trendy for the area?”
“Well, it’s just right next to my son’s window.” Well, mostly the underwear. It’s a little too open. Jake is beginning to inquire. He asked you yesterday if your thongs were slingshots.
“Oh, honey. It’s just clothes! There’s no way I’m giving up nuclear launch codes. But just between us, I think my leopard print bikini bottoms are pretty hot!”
My eye started to twitch. “I get it, but Jake is only eight years old.” He’s interested. He asked this morning if he could hang his Superman underwear next to your, uh, “crime-fighting gear.”
“Then that sounds like a great chance to learn something,” Thanks! It’s almost like I’m running a public service here. Why should I care about your son? It’s my yard. Get tough!”
“Excuse me?”
Lisa shook her head no and waved her hand. “Listen, if a few pairs of pants bother you that much, you might want to loosen up.” My yard, my rules. Take care of it. Even better, get some cuter underwear. If you’d like, I could give you some advice.
I stood there with my mouth open, possibly catching flies, while she slammed the door in my face.
I was shocked. I mumbled, “Oh, it’s on,” and turned on my heel. “Do you want to play dirty laundry?” Lisa, it’s game time. “Game on!” 😈
I worked on my sewing machine that night.
There were yards of the brightest, most off-putting fabric I could find in front of me. It was the kind of fabric that might have been visible from space and could have drawn in aliens.
“Do you think your little lace number is interesting, Lisa?” As I put the fabric through the machine, I mumbled. “Wait until you see this.” ET will call home to tell his family about these babies.
After hours of work, I finally finished my masterpiece: the biggest, ugliest pair of granny pants in the world. 🤣
They were small enough to be my point, but big enough to be a parachute. They were also loud enough to be heard from space.
Lisa’s underwear was faint, but mine was loud like a foghorn.
I moved quickly that afternoon as soon as I saw Lisa’s car leave her driveway.
I quickly ran across our lawns, hiding behind plants and yard decorations as I did so. I had my makeshift clothesline and giant flamingo underwear ready.
When it was safe to do so, I put up my work right in front of Lisa’s living room window. I couldn’t help but smile as I took a step back to look at my work.
The huge flamingo’s underwear swung gracefully in the afternoon breeze. Because they were so big, I think a family of four could use them as a tent overnight.
As I ran back home, I whispered, “Take that, Lisa.” “Let’s see how you react to getting what you deserve.” It’s going to get BRIGHT in the neighborhood, so I hope you brought your sunglasses.
When I got back to my house, I stood by the window. I was dying to see Lisa find my little surprise. It made me feel like a kid waiting for Santa to bring them gifts.
It felt like hours were going by.
It was just then that I realized Lisa had chosen to turn her errands into a surprise trip when I heard her car pull into the driveway.
It’s time to show.
Lisa froze as she walked outside with her arms full of shopping bags. I thought her jaw might come off because it dropped so quickly. She lost her grip on the bags and their contents fell all over the driveway.
Plaid underwear really did roll across the yard, I’m sure I saw it. Lisa, you look very classy. 😏
“WHAT THE HELL…?” The noise she made was so loud that everyone in the neighborhood could hear it. “Is that a hang glider?” “Has the circus come to town?”
I laughed out loud. I had tears running down my face as I saw Lisa yank at the big underwear in an angry way. It was funny to see a chihuahua try to fight a Great Dane.
After calming down, I went for a walk outside. “Hey Lisa, how are you? Are you redecorating? I really like what you did with the place. “Very cutting edge.”
She turned on me, her face as pink as the underwear I made for her. “You!” You did it! What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to tell planes to fly?”
I gave a shrug. “Just putting some laundry out.” That’s what neighbors do, right? “I thought we were beginning a trend.”
“This isn’t my laundry!” Lisa screamed and made wild motions with her underwear. “This is… this is…”
“The chance to learn?” I made a nice suggestion. “You know, for the kids in the neighborhood.” Jake was very interested in how underwear affected air flow. I thought that an example in real life might be helpful.
Lisa’s mouth moved back and forth like a fish out of water. At last, she was able to stutter, “Take it down.”
I tapped my chin with thought. “I’m not sure,” she said. I like the way the wind is blowing. It really lets things breathe, you know? I also think it’s making the property prices go up. Giant vanity underwear are the perfect way to show off your “classy neighborhood.”
I thought for a moment that Lisa might blow up on her own. Then, to my surprise, she leaped forward. She clenched her teeth and said, “Fine.” “You win.” I am going to move my laundry. Could you please take this horrible thing down? “My eyes are burning.”
I laughed and put out my hand. “Okay. But I have to tell you that flamingos are your color.
I couldn’t help but say, “By the way, Lisa?” as we shook on it. Thanks for coming to the neighborhood. We’re all going a little crazy here. Everybody hides it better than everyone else.
Lisa’s clothes stopped being hung up on the line in front of Jake’s window after that day. She never brought it up again, and I never had to deal with her “life lessons.”
What about me? Let’s just say that the flamingo fabric I used to make my curtains is very interesting. Don’t waste, don’t want, right?
Jake was a little let down that the “underwear slingshots” were no longer there. But I told him that being a superhero means you have to hide your underwear sometimes. And what if he sees huge flamingo underwear flying through the sky? That’s just Mom protecting the area one silly joke at a time! 😉
This work is based on real people and events, but it has been made up for artistic reasons. To protect privacy and make the story better, names, characters, and circumstances have been changed. Any similarity to real people, living or dead, or real events is completely accidental and not on purpose by the author.
The author and publisher don’t promise that the events or people are true to life, and they’re not responsible for any wrong ideas that come up. This story is given “as is,” and any ideas shown are the characters’ alone and do not represent those of the author or publisher.
