Neighbor Refused to Turn off His Flood Lights at Night – I Outplayed Him While Keeping the Peace

I still remember the day that the Thompsons moved in next door. They seemed like a nice enough couple, and my wife, Gia, got on with Susan instantly. They spoke about unpacking boxes while Gia hung our clothes on the line.

It seemed like we finally had a couple around our age we could sit back and hang out with. The husband, Mark, was a corporate guy, and he traveled a lot because of work. His wife, Susan, was the complete opposite. She was a homebody and seemed to have phobias of just about everything.

“Seriously, Anthony,” Gia told me when she was making toasted sandwiches for us. “Susan said that she had a phobia of the dark, thunderstorms, snakes, clowns, and spiders. And she said that even the sound of the wind howling through the trees sends shivers up her spine.”

“Is she being for real or just dramatic?” I asked as I poured some juice.

“I have no idea,” Gia replied. “But it’s just what she told me over the fence now.”

Now, I’m reasonable. I’m all for understanding people’s quirks and fears. We all have them.

But, as time went on, Susan’s fear of the dark led to a problem that quickly started messing with Gia and me.

The problem was their damn floodlights over the garage.

At first, it didn’t seem like a big deal. Mark and Susan got those lights installed after they moved in. And anyway, I had gotten ours installed a few months before as well, but our lights were much kinder on the eyes.

Instead, their lights were the kind that you’d see in front of a prison or an airport.

“They’re just blinding LEDs, Anthony,” Gia complained after the first night of barely any sleep. “I’m sure that you could see them from space.”

“Do you want me to talk to them?” I asked her as she put on thick concealer under her eyes.

“No, I’ll speak to Susan,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Naturally, she didn’t.

“She said that she needs them. Like really, Anthony. She insists that they stay on all night because they make her feel safe when Mark is away,” Gia said, walking into the house in frustration.

“I understand that,” I said diplomatically. “But the problem is that they shine right into our bedroom window. That’s not on.”

We decided not to cause any issues and went out to buy thick curtains and a set of blackout blinds, and once, we even tried to rearrange our bed.

Nothing worked.

Every night, I’d lie in bed, feeling that relentless light piercing through, making sleep a distant memory.

After a week of restless nights, I decided that it was time to approach Mark and Susan. As much as I understood her need for safety, I was also getting irritable from the lack of sleep.

I walked over one afternoon, catching Susan sitting on the lawn reading a book, and I politely brought up the lights.

“Hey, Susan,” I started, trying to sound casual. “I wanted to ask if there’s any chance you could turn off those floodlights after 11 or 12 p.m.? They’re shining directly into our bedroom, and it’s been a bit difficult to sleep.”

Susan looked at me with a tight smile.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that, Anthony!” she said. “But you see, with Mark away so often, I just feel safer with them on. You know, in case anyone tries to break in. I’ve explained it to Gia.”

I tried reasoning with her, but nothing worked.

“I can help you install a timer so that the lights switch on and off at certain times, Susan. It’s easy!” I said.

“I just don’t think I’d feel comfortable with that,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.

I walked back home to where Gia handed me a beer and continued making dinner.

“At least you tried,” she said, looking at my face.

Over the next few weeks, I brought up the subject a couple more times. I even spoke to Mark when he was home, thinking he might be a bit more reasonable.

“Really, Anthony, do you think it’s easy for me to leave my wife when I go on work trips? I worry about her all the time. The only resolve seems to be these lights. They make her feel safe, and that’s important to me.”

So, the lights stayed on, and we kept losing sleep.

That’s when my thoughts started drifting into darker, unpleasant territory.

“What if I just climbed up there and unscrewed the bulbs?” I asked Gia one morning over breakfast.

“It would take too long,” she muttered.

“Or I could take them out with the pellet gun. Quick and clean. It’s in the garage somewhere.”

“This isn’t you, honey,” she said, smiling. “As frustrated as you are, this isn’t you.”

“You’re right,” I said.

This was true. I wasn’t about to start a neighborhood war over this.

“But you could do something harmless,” Gia continued. “Susan and I are going to get our nails done tomorrow. We should be away for an hour. Enough time?”

I nodded.

The next day, after Gia and Susan left, I grabbed the ladder from the garage and crept over to the house next door. I carefully unscrewed each bulb a little bit.

I didn’t want to take them out. I just wanted to make sure that by unscrewing the bulb, the electric connection would be off.

That night, not long after Susan put the lights on, they flickered for a few moments and then went out.

“Oh, finally,” Gia said as she turned to her side.

The next morning, we both woke up feeling more refreshed than we had in weeks. The plan had worked. Gia and I were able to sleep in blissful darkness.

As I put the coffee machine on, I half-expected Susan to come knocking on my door, but it seemed they hadn’t noticed.

Weeks turned into months, and still, the lights stayed off. I figured that maybe they had given up on keeping them on all night.

“Maybe they realized that their electricity bill was just too high,” Gia shrugged.

But one day, out of the blue, I saw Mark tinkering with something outside. He was standing on the ladder, tightening the bulbs back into place.

Sure enough, that night the lights blazed back on, as if brighter than ever. I sighed, bracing myself for another round of sleepless nights while my wife cursed under her breath. But then I remembered that if something worked once, it could work again.

So, I repeated my little trick.

This back-and-forth went on for the better part of a year. Every time Mark would tighten the bulbs, I’d loosen them right back. It became a routine.

But then, one Saturday morning, as I was trimming the hedges, Mark wandered over. We hadn’t really spoken much since my first confrontation about the lights.

“Anthony,” he said. “Have you had any trouble with your outdoor lights?”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

“Well, ours keep going out. And I’ve had to retighten the bulbs a few times now, but they keep loosening up. It’s the strangest thing.”

I fought to keep a straight face, nodding sympathetically.

“You know, I’ve had the same issue. It’s probably the vibrations from the traffic on our street or something like that. They can rattle things loose over time.”

I didn’t know how I managed to say that with a straight face.

“That makes sense,” he said. “I’ll just have to keep an eye on them.”

“Or, you could leave them off. I eventually gave up on mine for the same reason. It’s much less of a headache than having to pull out the old ladder every time.”

Mark seemed to consider this, then shrugged.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, we don’t need to worry about that. Thanks, Anthony.”

And just like that, Gia and I returned to our peaceful evenings of utter darkness.

What would you have done?

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My In-Laws Told My Kids to Sleep in a Shed – Their Reason Shocked Me, but Karma Soon Intervened

When Penelope’s in-laws wanted her twins to spend time with their grandparents, she reluctantly allowed it, with her husband convincing her they could spend time together. But when Penelope phoned to check in on her girls, she discovered something horrific.

It all started innocently enough. My husband, Seth, and I decided to take our twin girls, Ava and Blair, to visit his parents for the weekend.

Seth’s parents, Paul and Linda, lived not too far away from us, but they were surrounded by rolling hills and endless fields.

“The girls should love it,” Seth said. “They’ll love the flower bushes and everything. And also, they haven’t really spent a lot of time with my parents, so this is going to be good.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I guess so. And it will be good for us to get outside for a while.”

“Actually,” Seth said, “it is the summer holidays. Why don’t we pack a bag for the twins and let them stay for a few days? My mom did mention it a few weeks ago.”

That made me uneasy. The twins hadn’t really been exposed to Seth’s parents, and I was always worried about them telling the twins the truth.

Seth and I adopted Ava and Blair as infants, and we’ve always treated them like they were our own. That’s because they were just that. However, we just hadn’t told them about their adoption yet.

“We’ll wait until they’re older,” I told Seth. “Like, let’s wait until they’re 16 at least.”