Her reply? “Lol yeah! We went a little hard. Sorry ”
I waited an hour, thinking maybe they’d clean up. Nothing. By noon, I walked over to their door. A man I didn’t know answered, shirtless, reeking of alcohol. He stared at me as if I was the strange one.
Confrontation
I lost it. I told her if the yard wasn’t cleaned by the end of the day, I’d call the city. Suddenly, she turned it around, accusing me of being “hostile” and “unneighborly.” I was stunned. But I documented everything—every cup, plate, and can.
Behind my hydrangeas, I found pieces of broken glass from a bottle someone had left. That’s when concern replaced frustration. My seven-year-old daughter plays in the yard every day. This could have been dangerous.