I live in a house located in a neighborhood of old homes. The houses were built in the 1920s, full of character, and with tiny little lawns requiring little maintenance. We were lucky enough to have found one with a small in-ground pool in the back, which I am enjoying during this unusually hot summer. I wouldn't change a thing about my house, except for one thing. My neighbors to the left.
My neighbors to the right are lovely people. My husband and the man who lives there conduct a Wilson-esque routine of chatting over our dividing fence about sports almost on a daily basis. They are kind, considerate, and quiet people. Ideal neighbors, really. That's not the case for the neighbors on the left.
Unfortunately, we have no dividing fence between our yard and these neighbors, an older couple in their 70s or 80s. We can see everything going on in their backyard, and they can see everything in ours. Ever since we've moved in, we've gotten the feeling they haven't liked us. They never say hello to us. Sometimes they scowl at us when we're walking back and forth to our detached garage. And because the man is practically deaf, we're treated to his wife's constant screeching for him as he works out in the yard. The unfriendliness, the scowls, and the screeching I can deal with. I cannot deal with the granny panties on their clothesline.
Almost every day, without fail, I come home from work and the first thing I see as I pull into my driveway are my neighbor's granny panties and bras flapping in the breeze on her clothesline. I know, I know. Someday I, too, will have granny panties. They will be big. They will be white. And they will be ugly. I should have more empathy for my neighbor and her undergarments. And I do, to a certain degree. She's older. She's earned the right to hang her underwear outside, and I should be okay with that. Except, I'm not. I'm completely repulsed.
I don't know if it's the 13 years I spent attending Catholic school that influence my repulsion, but I'm of the school that thinks underwear shouldn't be put on display. That includes thongs peeking out above low-riding jeans, bras worn as a top (unless you're competing on Survivor), and granny panties blowing in the wind next door to my house. If our houses were further apart, maybe I wouldn't care as much. And if she lived in the country, with no houses around, even better. Let 'em fly! But our houses are close enough together that I can see elastic waistbands, and that's something I just don't want to see.
Am I wrong to have a problem with this?
My neighbors to the right are lovely people. My husband and the man who lives there conduct a Wilson-esque routine of chatting over our dividing fence about sports almost on a daily basis. They are kind, considerate, and quiet people. Ideal neighbors, really. That's not the case for the neighbors on the left.
Unfortunately, we have no dividing fence between our yard and these neighbors, an older couple in their 70s or 80s. We can see everything going on in their backyard, and they can see everything in ours. Ever since we've moved in, we've gotten the feeling they haven't liked us. They never say hello to us. Sometimes they scowl at us when we're walking back and forth to our detached garage. And because the man is practically deaf, we're treated to his wife's constant screeching for him as he works out in the yard. The unfriendliness, the scowls, and the screeching I can deal with. I cannot deal with the granny panties on their clothesline.
Almost every day, without fail, I come home from work and the first thing I see as I pull into my driveway are my neighbor's granny panties and bras flapping in the breeze on her clothesline. I know, I know. Someday I, too, will have granny panties. They will be big. They will be white. And they will be ugly. I should have more empathy for my neighbor and her undergarments. And I do, to a certain degree. She's older. She's earned the right to hang her underwear outside, and I should be okay with that. Except, I'm not. I'm completely repulsed.
I don't know if it's the 13 years I spent attending Catholic school that influence my repulsion, but I'm of the school that thinks underwear shouldn't be put on display. That includes thongs peeking out above low-riding jeans, bras worn as a top (unless you're competing on Survivor), and granny panties blowing in the wind next door to my house. If our houses were further apart, maybe I wouldn't care as much. And if she lived in the country, with no houses around, even better. Let 'em fly! But our houses are close enough together that I can see elastic waistbands, and that's something I just don't want to see.
Am I wrong to have a problem with this?
My question is: Why would anybody WANT to hang their Granny-panties on the line? Wouldn't they dry all crunchie and stiff?!
I agree with Kross-eyed kitty; they would be hard and stiff and very uncomfortable to wear, I'd think!
We used to live in a neighborhood like that, but luckily, we had good neighbors and fences.
Michele sent me.
My Grandma used to do the same thing when I was a kid. I was mortified when the neighbor kids would come over to play and her white granny panties and bras were flapping in the wind, shining in the sun. I love my Grandma, but who wants to see that?!
I have to agree with Kenju and Kross-eyed Kitty - air-dryed underwear just isn't comfortable. That said, there's nothing better then the scent of sun-dried sheets and towels.
No, you're not wrong to be uncomfortable with this, but you do have to remember that it's your discomfort.
Is there any chance you could erect a fence? It might make you feel better.
(As always) I have two frames of mind about this; first, the compassionate side: Perhaps they can't afford a dryer and every day of their retirement is just spent getting by...
And now, the empathetic side of me: OH YUCK! No, I wouldn't want to see it either. I get freaked out easily by these things. It's like my mom... she moved in when my father passed away and now I find the oddest things all over the house!
Geekwif and I were at Target yesterday and she told me about this post so I wandered over. Thank you!
I'll be back!
Kross-Eyed Kitty and Kenju: My thoughts exactly. Sheets and towels are one thing. One's undergarments, worn close to the skin all day long, are another story altogether.
Geekwif: I hear ya! I think if they were nicer people, it maybe wouldn't bother me as much.
Mixed Metaphor: I know, it's repulsive, isn't it? I just don't understand it, and it seems at times that many girls do it on purpose.
Amy: crazy neighbors come in two separate flavors: mean crazy (like ours are) and quirky crazy (which I'd much prefer). Anyone have a quirky crazy neighbor and want to swap with me?
Practigal: No dryer? Wow-he must be a patient guy waiting for all those clothes to dry. And I have no problem with people using clotheslines. For me, it's all about the granny panties. Other garments don't bother me in the least. :)
MissMeliss: We've actually thought about it. Maybe sooner rather than later!
Kathy: A clothesline in the front yard? I've never heard of such a thing! :)
Blond Girl: I thought about that, too, but they have two pretty decent cars and they don't seem to be struggling.