After my divorce, I moved into a small white house with a porch swing, hoping for peace and a fresh start. “My lawn became my therapy,” filled with roses from my grandmother. But that peace ended when my neighbor, Sabrina, began driving her SUV across my yard, ruining my flowers “like it was her personal shortcut.”
I tried to reason with her and even placed rocks, but “Sabrina’s smug attitude made it clear she didn’t care.” So, I fought back. I buried chicken wire under the grass—her car didn’t handle it well. When she called a lawyer, I hired a surveyor, who confirmed she was trespassing. I mailed her the report with a note: *“Respect goes both ways.”*
Still, she kept at it—until I set up a motion-activated sprinkler. It soaked her car the moment she crossed the lawn. That finally did the trick.
She never cut through again.
