I've been away for about five weeks, visiting friends, visiting my parents in Phoenix . . .
And now it's curtains.
Douglas and I bought a house in Silver Spring Maryland last October and it has a rather largish bay window with no curtains. Those of you who knew our house in Saint Paul - which we lived in for about twelve years and never hung front room curtains - may be wondering, "What's your hurry, Laura?"
Well, I'll tell you. Douglas and I have been living in effort to consistently raise our standards - eat better, toss out clothes with holes, rid our shelves of pans with missing Teflon, etc. - and as we moved in this house we agreed to certain things, like curtains. There are more, but that should be another blog.
As with most things I procrastinate, instead of actually doing it, I'm philosophizing and writing about it.
I first thought, on the plane on the way home, how odd it is that we live in a society, buy houses only a few yards from other people and instantly set up boundaries to shut ourselves out of this chosen society. We put up fences (I know, I know, it makes good neighbors), we lock our doors (I know) and we hang curtains so no one can see that we are doing the same thing they're doing.
I think the fence thing may have more to do with marking our territory. We can stand back and think, "That's mine." Thank God our husbands don't piss it off any more.
Locking the door, obviously, is too keep our intruders from our inner sanctums.
But are we not in a society because we are needed and need each other? In a good society would we not share what we have with those in need? Of course we would, but on our own terms, not theirs.
I wondered, my first night back in my own bed, if maybe, just maybe the peeping Toms and thieves have it more right than the rest of us. Are we supposed to be this shut off to everyone else?
I remember taking a walk in Florida with my friend Blair. The homes in the neighborhood where we walked were rather grand and sat up on yards with sloping front lawns. Many had their curtains open and lights on. I commented on one room I saw that was lined with bookcases. "That's the kind of room I could really settle into." I then said something about how I shouldn't be peeking in their windows. "No," he corrected me. "They want you to look." And so we talked about what we saw. It was delightful. Voyeurism as a past time was new, so I felt delightfully naughty.
Once in St. Paul, Douglas and I were walking along a similar street and I heard a piano being played. I knew it was live and not a recording so I decided to be bold, encourage the player and knock on the door to tell them how much I enjoyed hearing it as I strolled by. The man looked at me blankly and said, "I was playing Hanon." (Hanon, for you non-piano types is a standard book of very boring exercises.) I was a little embarrassed that I hadn't realized that. Then, in my flustered state, I told him the truth. "It was still nice hearing a piano being played."
So, as we vainly tried to in St. Paul, I must now hunt for front room curtains. In St. Paul Douglas found a curtain merchant (I don't know what to call her) who would bring samples to your home. One of my problems committing to curtains back then was my lack of ability to visualize them in the room. I was excited to see some curtains hung from which we could pick. She arrived with tiny fabric samples, no curtain samples. I lost interest in about five minutes and left poor Douglas to see her out.
My mom asked me if I'm going to buy sheer curtains. I told her I didn't know, then I got all philosophical again. If we hang sheers we can tease people with a veiled look into our lives; if we hang black out curtains we can not only shut ourselves off from the world, but we can shut out the world from our lives. I will say, if there were such a thing as sound proof curtains, that I would be very interested in as we are partially surrounded with yapper dogs.
We are awaiting delivery of a couch and love seat for the front room; perhaps I should wait until they arrive so I can get a better feeling about what would look good hanging in the window. And we really should hang those pictures because they may dictate what color would look best.
So, as per Scarlett O'Hara, "I'll think about that tomorrow." And, just so I'm in good company in my procrastination, Shakespeare: "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day." It will come.
To my faithful readers: As I mentioned, Douglas and I are trying to raise our standards. In keeping with that we are accepting financial donations . . . just kidding. I want to write better so I want your critical input from time to time - not too often. For example, in this blog I wrote short paragraphs. I did this for three reasons: to elicit a laugh (see paragraph #5), to make a point (paragraph #8) and to get you to pause and think (paragraph #13). Was it effective? Was it too choppy?
