For 35 years, my laundry routine was sacred—flannel in winter, cotton in summer, and lavender-scented sheets my late husband Tom loved in spring. Then came Melissa, my new neighbor, who started firing up her grill every time my sheets hit the line.
At first, it seemed petty. But soon, her smoky bacon and charcoal smells ruined my laundry, turning my fresh sheets gray and acrid. I tried talking to her, but all I got was a fake smile and “I’m just enjoying my yard.”
My neighbor Eleanor confirmed Melissa’s daily timing was no coincidence—it was deliberate.
These were my last sheets with Tom’s scent. Ruined.
My daughter suggested a dryer, but I’m not giving up my clothesline without a fight.
I found out our HOA rules say excessive barbecue smoke is a nuisance. I’m not reporting her yet—I want to try a different plan first.
“This isn’t over,” I told myself.
