For weeks, my neighbor’s underwear waved proudly right outside my 8-year-old son’s bedroom window. They were bright, lacy, and plentiful

— and quickly became the unintentional stars of our suburban skyline. It started on laundry day. I glanced out the window and nearly dropped

a pair of Batman briefs — Lisa, our new neighbor, had her thongs flapping in the breeze like neon flags.

My son, Jake, stared and innocently asked, “Are those slingshots?”

Trying to preserve some childhood innocence, I closed the curtains and made a joke about underwear preferring privacy.

But the parade continued. Every day, more lace. More string. More questions — including whether Lisa’s “tiny undies”

were for a hamster, or if she fought crime and needed them for aerodynamics. Finally, I had enough. I marched to Lisa’s

house to ask if she could move her laundry elsewhere. She scoffed, told me to “loosen up,”

and slammed the door in my face. Game on. That night, I created the world’s biggest, brightest, most ridiculous pair of granny panties

— flamingo-printed and massive enough to use as a tent. The next day, I strung them right in front of Lisa’s window. Her reaction?

Shock. Fry. And finally… surrender. She agreed to move her laundry, and peace returned to our street. Now, Jake’s window has a clear view again,

and I have a fabulous flamingo curtain — because sometimes, the best way to solve a problem is with a little creativity and a lot of polyester.