Curtain Rods

Day 221: Curtain Rods

These ends are a testament to why
keeping stuff around is not a good idea.
How did they get crushed? I don't know.
I hope they're still usable for someone.

The au pair we had in between Nadin and Ina - Nicole - wanted curtains for her attic bedroom. She felt exposed up there, even though it's a floor above any of our neighbors' living spaces, and even though most of the windows are skylights pointing towards the clouds. Nicole had a few other complaints as well. Rich and I drank all the coffee and didn't leave any for her. Her bed was uncomfortable, too soft, not enough support. The kids made her feel "stressy," they didn't mind very well. I bought these rods for her with every intention of acquiring and putting up curtains for her, but it just never happened. In an old house like ours, I'm not a fan of curtains unless they are absolutely necessary for privacy's sake. Every ray of sunshine should be embraced and uplifted. Nothing should diminish the light.

I lived in San Francisco for twelve years, and for a good portion of that time, I had a little apartment in a ten-story building on Alamo Square Park (site of postcard row). I had a beautiful western-facing view of the City: from my window, I could see the Panhandle and Golden Gate Park in the distance, the distant trees a backdrop to the vast sea of apartment buildings, houses, cafes, sidewalks, gas stations, bodegas, bicycles, streets, light poles, cars, passersby, transit lines and on and on and on.

At one point, my father gave me a telescope and I set it up by the window. I think my intentions were pure - I would look at the moon, or the birds, or try to spy the ocean in the far distance.

Naturally, the view a little closer to home was much more interesting. The telescope was a secret peek into slices of my neighbors' lives. The City is so dense, you can live in the building next door to someone for a decade and not recognize her when you pass her on the street. I never saw anything even remotely scintillating through the telescope. Not even a PG-13 kiss. It's not that people had their curtains closed. It's just that they usually do things like watch t.v., or talk on the phone, or read the newspaper. Things that aren't very interesting to watch.

I quickly lost interest in the telescope. Watching ore boats go by on Lake Michigan in the U.P. is much more captivating than watching your neighbors eat a bowl of cereal. But the telescope had the paradoxical effect of diminishing my commitment to window treatments. If someone really wants to watch  me type my blog through a telescope from some neighboring building, let them. What's the harm in watching?