When I politely asked my neighbor, Shannon, to stop sunbathing in bikinis right outside my teenage son’s window, I didn’t expect to wake up to a toilet on my lawn. But sure enough, there it was—an old, grimy toilet with a sign that read: “FLUSH YOUR OPINION HERE!” I should’ve known she’d be a handful. Ever since she moved in, she painted her house in every shade imaginable and treated her front yard like a fashion runway. My 15-year-old son, Jake, was mortified. “Mom, I can’t even open my window!” he complained after yet another one of her lounging sessions.

So I decided to be polite. I asked if she could move her sun chair elsewhere she had two acres to choose from. Shannon, being Shannon, replied with dramatic flair, a sarcastic tone, and even offered me a life coach’s number. Then came the toilet. Still, I kept my cool. But she didn’t stop.