Divorce taught me one thing: boundaries matter. So when Sabrina started treating my lawn like her personal driveway, I knew I had to draw the line—literally.
At first, I tried kindness. Ornamental rocks. A polite request. She ignored them all.
So, I buried chicken wire. The pop of her tire was the sweetest sound I’d heard in months.
Then came the legal letter—her lawyer’s attempt to intimidate me. Joke’s on her. I responded with a folder full of evidence: photos, property surveys, and a clear message—Respect goes both ways.
But Sabrina didn’t back down.
So, I installed a sprinkler with the force of a fire hose. The next morning, her Lexus got a free car wash—and she got a reality check.
Weeks later, her husband showed up with lavender. “You got through to her,” he said.
My lawn is thriving now. And so am I.
