My new office has the strangest window treatments I’ve ever experienced. First off the window starts about four feet off the floor. This means that when I’m sitting at my desk, looking out the window isn’t easy. It requires cocking my head upwards, and then I can only see a slice of sky and the tips of some trees. From the view, you’d never guess that I was actually in a highly urban environment. When I’m standing, I can’t see much more, then again, I am vertically challenged (5’2″ and 1/4).
But back to the window treatments. There are mini-blinds up there, but the live in between two panes of glass. There is a little knob in the lower left hand corner of the window that I have to climb on my desk to reach, that will adjust the tilt of the blinds, but there is no way to put them all the way up. Being the fan of natural light that I am, I tend to do my darnest to get rid of anything that will block it. When my apartment became officially mine, I pulled down my grandmother’s heavy drapes and threw them down the trash shute (I probably should have donated them, but at that moment, I just needed them gone). The very first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is to give the cord of my blinds a violent tug, sending light shooting across my bed. The second awake action of the day is making my bed. How I missed these two routine moments when my late -leeping ex-boyfriend was living with me (although he was worth the sacrifice).
I’ve always had problems with window treatments, although some are a whole lot worse than others. Case in point. A little over a year ago, two friends and I drove to Williamsport, PA. We were visiting a person who used to mean a lot to all of us, but had become decreasingly less important in our lives as time had passed (these things happened). We walking into her fully decorated, fully furnished, fully knick knacky house. I was momentarily stunned speechless. The window treatments! They were more like window punishments. The valence matched the wallpaper, which matched the upholstery, which matched the carpet, which matched…well, you get the idea. Those windows had been very bad indeed to deserve that kind of treatment. Later that night, the three of us visitors lay on a bed, quietly being catty. Towards the end of the conversation, I said, “I have just two words for you, Window Treatments!” We cracked up, so raucously, that our hostess (who really is a sweet person) came looking for us, wanting to know what was so funny. What can you say to that?
To this day, all I have to do is hiss at one of them, “window treatments” and they let loose a little snort of laughter.