They say good fences make good neighbors. What they don’t say? Sometimes you need chicken wire and a high-powered sprinkler.
After my divorce, I channeled all my energy into my lawn. It became my therapy—until Sabrina decided it was her personal driveway. Day after day, her tires tore through my flowerbeds. When I asked her to stop, she treated me like an inconvenience.
So, I became an inconvenience right back.
The chicken wire was just the opening salvo. Her flat tire brought temporary satisfaction, but her lawyer’s letter showed she still didn’t get it. So I proved she’d been trespassing, then escalated to aquatic warfare.
The sprinkler was poetic justice. As she stood there dripping, I realized: This wasn’t about grass. It was about no longer letting people treat me like my boundaries were optional.
When her husband brought that lavender plant, I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
My lawn is thriving now. So am I.
