I have been thinking, dear reader, as I often do…
Other people think about other issues. Some think about the meaning of life, some think about where India is headed, and still others think about their household budget. But you know me.
Me, I think about the truly difficult stuff – the stuff that nobody else thinks about. Should sandwiches have the crust removed or not? Should poha have peanuts or not? Should you pick up the danged phone every single time it rings? (No, No and Heck No, in that order). Stuff That Really Matters, But Nobody Thinks About, if you like.
And today’s column is written on a similarly important topic – one that has a very large impact on how you live your life, and yet is not spoken of nearly as often as it should be. So, without further ado, here goes:
Should the curtains in your life be sheer or not?
There exist, unfortunate though the news is, two kinds of people on this planet. The first kind thinks that curtains ought to be like utopian political parties – as transparent as possible. The first kind thinks that gossamer ought to be a synonym for drapes. The first kind thinks that spider webs would benefit by not being quite so heavy and overbearing.
I’m the kind of person who thinks the kind I just described is nuts.
See, I’m all for sunlight. I really am. Frolicking in the sun is a wonderful thing, and I enjoy my vitamin D as much as anybody else. Give me a beach in Goa, a bottle of beer in my hand, and you’ll have a very convivial fellow for the next half an hour or so. Don’t get me wrong, sunlight is not the enemy.
Except when I’m sleeping or watching the television. Both activities are very much indoor sports. They were not designed to be done in the open. The second activity demands that the screen be visible in its resplendent entirety, and the first (at least to me, and I’m a sane and reasonable man) demands pitch black darkness. There should be no sunlight peeking through the window at the crack of dawn, not where the undersigned is concerned. Give me an hour, preferably two after daybreak, give me five minutes or so of peering bleary-eyed at the phone, and then ten minutes after to brush my teeth and what not. And after that – but not before – I’ll be ok with the rays of sunshine.
But my significant other (I’m beginning to detect a pattern here) thinks otherwise.
She revels in light, white types of curtains – the sort that look beautiful but are manifestly useless at doing what they were designed for: blocking light.
Me, personally, I’d like the kind of curtains that Donald would approve of – they should block absolutely everything and everyone. If you like light streaming into your room, well, then – draw ‘em back. And if not, then keep ‘em where they were designed to be and do what they were designed for.
Which is why, dear reader, you’re likelier than not to find me in a foul mood. For the winter solstice is a thing of the past, and the sun is up a little earlier every single day. And my curtains never fail to let me know.
He doesn't expect the paradox to be resolved in his lifetime
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