u/MissRachiel

At around 9:30 PM, a housemate and several neighbors spotted a person with a flashlight checking parked cars.

We didn't get a plate or vehicle description, so I'm not sure if it's the same person u/Apprehensive-Luck678 saw yesterday.

They took off when everyone's lights came on.

Around 33rd and Bahnson, near Harvey Dunn.

I've got a couple of windows with drafty frames. One looks like it took a bit of water damage that needs to be addressed.

What are you recs for either companies or handypeople to deal with this?

I'm not looking to install all new windows in my house or anything like that. Just need to get these two windows/frames repaired or replaced as necessary.

Neighborhood Boomers hate my clothesline.

I've posted about it before: https://www.reddit.com/r/BoomersBeingFools/comments/1e2mhgk/tsk_this_used_to_be_such_a_nice_neighborhood/

It's always been women either directly bitching to me about it, or making passive-aggressive comments about it as they walk by, until a few weeks ago. I assumed it was because a lot of Boomers consider laundry "women's work," and maybe that's still true, but some dude finally felt the need to weigh in.

Keep in mind, I'm not in some HOA neighborhood with restrictions. Yeah, I'm in the state's "big city," but the state has less than a million inhabitants. My property was farmland less than 50 years ago. In fact, one of my neighbors lived on the farm in question, and a street or two in the development are named for his family members since it was their land. Almost everyone in town grew up with their undies flapping in the breeze in the backyard.

And once again, it's the underwear tripping their triggers.

I'm outside hanging up clothes, and "Gerald" is walking his dog. (I haven't been introduced to Gerald's dog, but they're a good dog, and in no way a party to this stupidity.) To give you an idea of the rustic nature of this observation, Gerald is in his Oshkosh overalls and a wifebeater shirt. He grew up around here just like me. Up to now we've shared the occasional Midwestern neighborly nod.

Doggo (let's call them Ruff) stops to poop in my yard. Gerald is a decent human being and pulls a crumpled plastic grocery bag out of his big deep overall pocket. (fucking love those pockets) Gerald is known within the neighborhood as shy. It's cool, man. So am I, by Boomer standards.

Gerald is standing there looking around at the birds, the sky, anything but Ruff taking a shit. His mouth is hanging open, and he's kind of panting in between words, but also mumbling to himself, as they do. His tone changes when he latches onto my clothesline.

"Look at that!" he says in that babytalk voice some people use with their pets. "Time was people made sure the flaps faced backward."

I thought I'd misheard him at first. I knew the comment was directed at me, but...flaps? "Flaps" always puts me in mind of that one cuntfloss onesie picture where all the women posted "But what about my flaps?" (I tried to find it for a link. I failed. My search history is permanently...tainted. IYKYK.)

I needed my son to explain it to me. Gerald was talking about the boxers hanging on the line. You know the overlapping window in men's underwear where you can whip your penis out for a quick piss? Gerald meant that. I'm used to women bitching about bras hanging out "for the world to see," but this was the first time a man had that kind of problem with men's underwear.

Anyway, Ruff finished their business, Gerald dutifully cleaned it up, and life went on.

Except....

Ever since then I've made sure all the flaps are proudly facing the sidewalk. Call me petty, but I never saw it as a problem until Gerald...kinda...called me out. What exactly is the problem, Gerald? Does it bother you that other people have penises?

I'd ask him, but he's been walking Ruff on the other side of the street! Can't let an innocent doggo see the dickflaps! 🙄

(In fairness, my dearly departed husband used to call me "Mr. Monk" from that old TV show, from how I prefer things a certain way. I'd get it if it was like that. But Gerald does not have that reputation within the neighborhood of people who know him from childhood. The neighbors, whether I want to hear about it or not, are happy to tell me Gerald's life story. Repeatedly. As far as I know, and as they're all so anxious to tell me, Gerald's just a dude...unmarried, (hinthint)...I kinda wonder what they tell Gerald about me, aside from "Oh, look. There goes the young widow [my name]." Except it sounds like "yungwidda," and I've been that for over a decade. The neighborhood is currently divided over whether I'm "living in sin" or renting out rooms as a "respectable" widow does. Is this 1800 or what??)

Anyway, this weekend my son bought one of those big multipacks of underwear on sale. I washed them and hung them up along with all the other laundry.

Well, as far as Gerald is concerned, I may as well have hung up...idk...penises? Which are...too much...for...doggos??? Or him. Not that he'd admit it, obviously.

It wasn't just undies. Also washcloths, towels, you know, all the other stuff you put in the hot wash or sanitizer wash. It. Was. Laundry.

Instead of just walking Ruff on the other side of the street, Gerald turned around!! I was out there hanging up stuff and laughed to myself when I saw him, but then I heard Gerald make a little squawk noise. He did a very rigid about face and pulled Ruff back along the other way. I only caught a few words as he stiff-walked/dragged Ruff back the way they'd come, but I heard "flaps."

One whole clothesline row of boxers facing outward was too much for Gerald and (maybe) Ruff's precious eyes.

I'd include a picture, y'all, but it's probably too much!

I ran to the store for a couple of things, and there was a mall cop looking dude at the end of the self checkouts. He had the Hy Vee logo on his outfit. I don't recall them having one on Saturday.

Is this a new thing they're planning to keep? Have they been doing this all along, and I just happened to miss it before now? Are they only doing it in some stores?

This was the 26th and Sycamore Hy Vee.

I recently bought some underwear that came in a variety of colors: black, white, gray, and nude. The nude color is a weird orange that does not remotely match any human skin tone.

I recall my mother mail ordering clothes in the 1970's, and products back then also included "nude" as one of the colors, but there was never a consistent shade.

Nude pantyhose were various shades of brown. Nude panties or bras could be anything from beige, to amber, to the orange I got, to salmon. Nude shirts tended more toward beige or ecru.

So was there ever a time where the color "nude" was a single, recognizable shade? If so, did it represent an idealized skin tone? Was it meant imply that the garment would blend in with a person's complexion? Was nude once meant to convey a spectrum of colors rather than a single, unrealistic one? Or did nude originally mean something else in the fashion industry?