Some people learn through reason. Others need chaos and consequences to understand a simple boundary. My neighbor Richard? Very much the latter. So, I gave him the lesson he apparently needed.
Every morning, my routine was the same: brew coffee, glance out the window, sigh heavily at the sight of a blue Honda Civic blocking my garage. Again.
This had been going on for six months—ever since Richard moved back in with his parents next door. Six months of knocking on his door at 7:45 a.m., waiting while he sleepily muttered apologies and fumbled with his keys. Six months of me being late to work and trying not to commit a misdemeanor.
I wasn’t some cranky old lady with binoculars. I was 32, single by choice, and a graphic designer with a solid career and a teal accent wall I refused to compromise on. Relationships hadn’t worked out Read more below
