When one moves into suburbia they expect certain behaviors from their neighbors. As such, some things are to be assumed, whether you desire them or not. For example; we have someone on our street who I'm guessing feels morally opposed to mowing their lawn and would like their yard to resemble a rain forest. I reckon they feel grass has feelings and cutting them with a blade would ensure they never get into heaven.
My next door neighbor has a clothesline and has decided to utilize the hot Texas weather than use a dryer. Whether they really care about going green, saving on their utility bill, or preserving laundry methods from their home country is a mystery to me. I don't mind it being there as I applaud their efforts, but last night it became a nuisance.
I come home to find what seemed to be a pair of stained women's underwear lying in my back yard. It could be the husband's, but that's an image I refuse to have. Whatever force of wind blew said undergarments into my domain must be the product of Satan. My wife put on a glove and delivered the unmentionables back over their fence.
"Half the world does not know the joys of wearing cotton underwear." - Phil Gramm