Are you a fan of the series ‘Desperate Housewives’? I’m a fan. I’ve been following the series quite religiously since a few years back. I’ve always wondered how it’s like to actually live in Wisteria Lane, the fictional neighborhood in the infamous series. Well, now I know how it feels like to ‘live’ in Wisteria Lane, because I’m actually living in one. Well, almost…I think.

In case you’re not familiar with the series, Wisteria Lane is famous for being the home of desperate housewives with plenty of dirty laundries (and dead bodies) in the closets as well as full of nosy, spy-like neighbours who devotes their daily lives in sniffing the dirty laundries.

I am currently living in a place like that too. Plenty of housewives who are busybodies, and have fetish for dirty underwear. I don’t suppose I have extremely dirty panties or bras lying around the house or any dead bodies under my bed, but apparently, my neighbour, who is also my new landlady seems to think that way.

She must have thought that I’m one of those desperate housewives with loads of time to spare, and more often than not, she’ll come knocking my door whenever she feels like it just so that she could poke her nose around sniffing dirty laundries and gossip about others.

Being a working from home mother, I certainly DO NOT appreciate the lack of privacy. My time is really precious. I have a lot of things to do in a day. I got to take care of my family, handle my freelancing projects, study,write my novel, etc. I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR IDLE GOSSIPS. I’m not one of those useless people who loves to talk about other people, and I certainly don’t appreciate people coming to knock my door when I’m busy working, or resting just so that they can gossip nonsense with me.

Call me a bad, unfriendly neighbour…but I prefer to mind my own business. I may like Superman’s red undies, but I certainly do not have the fetish for other people’s dirty underwear, what more spend my time in front of my door talking about other people’s dirty and unwashed undies.

Right at the moment, I’ve been ignoring those daily knockings on the door after ‘marketing’ hours and during tea -time, hoping that soon enough, that old lady will get bored of it. Not quite an effective solution…I know… but what else can I do besides quietly sitting in my study, pretending that there is no rude knockings on the door?

Any suggestion on how to remedy this situation, guys? I’m really at loss here.

Cleffairy: Scheming to move out to a landed property where I can actually get myself a fierce pet dog; preferably a Rotwailler who will actually bark and attack intruders and nosy neighbours.