Fancy here apologizes for her recent silence. There has been a lot going on here at the Fancy home and even with 2 Nannies, a Fancy PA and Amazon, I’ve spent much of the last couple alternating between tears and tears of laughter. Sort of like a deranged mental patient. It’s been so crazy that I called a time out today and spent 4 hours at the spa getting rubbed and scrubbed and oiled and pounded. I feel well enough to speak now.
So what was it that finally threw me over the edge? Curtains. It all comes down to curtains. We've been doing a bit of home decorating. The floorboard skirting, the electrical wiring, the micromanaging, well, that can all be handled with a combination of Fancy authority and booze. But curtains? I’ve come to a new understand.
Curtains versus blinds. That’s always the question, isn’t it? And I now firmly believe that the affinity for one over the other is burned into our souls. It’s like Coke v Pepsi. Crest v Colgate. The colour orange v anything else. You feel one way or the other. No discussion.
And Fancy here is a Blinds person. Hands down.
But I’m also easily persuaded, especially when it comes to things like decorating. I mean, come on, I hired a woman to lay my clothes out before dinner. What makes you think I know the first thing about accent rugs? And they promised me it would be wonderful, that it was the only way to go, that I would be thrilled.
Thrilled they said.
So for the last couple months I’ve been envisioning walking into the living room and seeing light, airy, billowing curtains, practically smelling the sea air. Like walking into a suite at the Delano in South Beach. Every time I go into a room there, all white and light and fresh, I half expect to see God, or at least Morgan Freeman, sitting there waiting for me.
The curtains arrived yesterday.
I did not see God.
“Um, I’m sorry to have to say this, but they need to go. In fact the only workable solution is that they leave no later than tomorrow. I would rather the neighbours watch me cook dinner naked than spend one more minute in this room,” I said as politely as I could the minute our Fancy Designer picked up the line.
You think I’m exaggerating. I thought white. They were yellow. I thought modern. They looked like something my Grandma had. I thought sleek, they were practically touching me from across the room. My house looked like the Sound of Fucking Music in reverse.
Then I called H. Told him to spend the night in a hotel. That under no circumstances was he to come home before this unmitigated home décor disaster had been resolved. He was confused, but seriously, it would be better this way. His heart is already under so much strain.
So today the windows are once again bare. I’m sitting naked in my living room, typing and waving at the neighbours. But at least I don’t have to worry about the curtain monsters eating me. Shudder.
Anyhoo, I'll keep you posted. At least I look well rested, sitting here waving at Central London.
p.s. there is now an email link! Because you ask and Fancy delivers.
