The kitchen window is a corner of our home that has been bugging me for some time.
One of its myriad sins is that I find it impossible to get a good picture of it, hence the strangely lit picture with the yellowish cast to it, for which I apologise. But on a more fundamental note, there are a few things going wrong here, some of which are fixable, some of which aren’t:
- the horrible metal blind left behind by the house’s previous owner
- the boiler and all the pipework out in the open next to it. Taking up wall space that could be filled with cupboard. Or with pictures. Or with almost anything else.
- the dark-stained wooden window frame
- the late-night washing up paranoia.
To tackle these things one at a time…
Horrible metal blind
I developed some strange selective vision in relation to this blind. I would go for months totally oblivious to it, then suddenly my eyes would fix on it, and a rage would descend upon me. What was this horrible thing doing in my house? Why had I allowed it to stay? One day, whilst the red mist was still in front of my eyes – and whilst I was probably a bit drunk on nesty-8 months pregnant hormones – I ran out of the room, late at night, grabbed a screwdriver, and just took the damn thing down. What a relief. And so quick to do that I was torn between relief at the improvement it made, and crossness that I’d left it so long. (Oh, and annoyance at Oli that it hadn’t occured to him to do such a thing. But this is normal, right?)
Well, there it is. And there is shall most probably have to stay. I do have plans to convert our downstairs shower room into a tiny utility room, and separate downstairs toilet. And one of those rooms would be the perfect place for the boiler to reside eventually. But in the meantime, there is something about the boiler’s benign, but faintly threatening presence, which says to me in a whisper, ‘Sure. You can think about getting a quotation from someone to move me. Fine. Be like that. But if you do, I GUARANTEE the quotation will cost an enormous amount of money. And then I’ll immediately stop working, and require replacement at huge cost. Just to annoy you.‘
So on balance I think we can learn to co-exist.
The dark-stained wooden window frame
I have started on this one. I heaved my spherical self up onto the worktop, sanded and filled the frame, and have applied one coat of undercoat. Get me. Of course, I haven’t yet applied a coat of gloss. But there’s no need to rush these things.
The late-night washing up paranoia.
This one might be just me. I really hate standing in front of windows at night when the house is lit and the garden is dark. Even though I know the only living things out there that could see me are the pigeons and the foxes. I don’t like the idea that someone could be right outside, looking in, and I wouldn’t be able to see them. I am slightly freaking myself out just writing this down, now, in a brightly sun-lit room in the middle of the day.
So I decided we needed an alternative window treatment. Or something. Something I could pull over the window to obscure the blackness. But what? Metal blinds are out for obvious reasons. Other types of blinds I mulled over, but decided they would quickly get dirty: flicked with washing up water. Ditto curtains. I mean, I could have curtains, but I’d need some kind of curtain or bind that I could remove quickly and simply so I could wash them frequently. And there is not enough room for shutters. So what could we have?
This latest house dilemma has been percolating through my mind for ages, looking for a solution. Then yesterday, I realised I might have it.
I was reading the ever-chirpy John and Sherri from Young House Love writing about the bathroom they did up for Sherri’s grandmother, and when I read them talking about curtain clips. Curtain rings with bulldog type clips on that you just clip onto a piece of material to turn it into a curtain.
I literally had a lightbulb moment. Curtain clips! Because whilst I can’t imagine me sitting up on the counter un-ravelling a Roman blind every few months, I can certainly see me unclipping a simple, light pair of curtains and throwing them in the washing machine. (Which is to say, I can see me telling Oli, ‘The curtains need washing. They have done for weeks. Please could you unclip them and stick them in the washing basket?’. Which surely amounts to the same thing.)
So there you have it. Another tiny house dilemma with a potential solution. There is just one question remaining, which Google and I are going to tackle this weekend with more than a faint feeling of trepidation….
… do curtain clips exist outside the US?!
Needless to say, I will report back.