The Window Pain

I'm not big into window coverings. Right after we moved in, I ripped out almost all of the custom-made wooden shutters. They must have cost somebody a fortune, but they made me feel claustrophobic. Plus they just screamed eighties. I've had a couple of decorators pop in over the years to give me all of their fancy ideas, but was never able to do anything about this one window. The kitchen's too dark already, I like looking at my tree too much and it feels so urban to keep it bare, so New Yorkish. I figured if people driving by at night felt like they had to peep in, go for it. My neighbors across the street, an elderly couple, always went to bed pretty early and for ten years, I never saw a light on in their front room. Never. But now they're gone. First him, then her and now there's a new neighbor. One of Shawn's patients, actually, and the lights are on, reminding me that we're not alone. That guy will need to get used to seeing me walk Sully around the block, all pony tail, white legs and no make-up, but it's the inside view I'm worried about. Me all squinty-eyed, wandering around in the middle of the night, Cali the cat drinking water out of the faucet (gross, gross, so unsanitary, I know), a mail-strewn messy countertop, Shawn all crazy-haired in the morning, making coffee in his flannel smiley face jammie pants. So maybe it's time to throw up a shade.

Nobody needs to see any of that.