Tuesday, 12 May 2009

For some reason, my landlord honoured my request for new curtains in the kitchen. What was hanging there before today were some black vertical blinds from the 1980's. I kept expecting the Perfect Match theme to start up every time I came through the door.

Now, I am a very visual person. When I imagine something in the future, I can't help but to visualise it. Rehearse it, if you will. Which, if you listen to pop or sports psychology, is a good thing to do. Your mind, they say, does not know the difference between what is actually being experienced and what is being imagined. Thusly, it is good to visualise yourself in certain situations, especially those that cause some consternation or that you aren't particularly adept in. Rehearsal for the future, you know? Rehearse yourself kicking goals in the football game, or taking criticism, or having written and finished a piece for publication, or whatever. I do believe this works and I practise it. Often.

However, visualising what curtains you imagine your landlord is going to be putting up is a different sort of thing entirely. You can visualise all you want, but The Secret will not deliver your desires into your landlord's head. When the selection criteria is out of your control but you still hold a picture of your landlord getting curtains you will like, then it becomes expectations rather than visualisations :)

My landlord arrived as I was about to leave for work. I do quite trust N; he is an ethical person and so I wasn't too qualmish about going off and leaving him in my house to hang some curtains. I presume he didn't go through my undies drawer or, even worse, the dirty clothes basket, but you never quite know, do you? The most normal looking people are sociopaths and psychopaths after all. You don't spend two years transcribing police interviews without realising that there are seriously whacked people out there. And so how would I know whether my landlord has a secret desire to chop people up or have sex with beasties or go through his tenant's smalls?

(Gee, that paragraph took a rather dark turn, didn't it! I was babbling about curtains and then suddenly bang, shove you into a drear and debilitating "the psychos are amongst us" swamp. Sorry 'bout that. Here, have a towel. Come back to the fabric fireside and get warm (hopefully it's a flame retardant fabric fireside or we might be in trouble :)

So yes, I went off to work with barely a qualm about my landlord being alone in my house. When he was living here in the other house on the property, I fed his cat while he was away for the weekend. And I didn't go through his stuff. So I hope he returned the favour.

Actually, I'm really not seriously concerned about him going through my undies, whatever their state. (Hell, part of me would probably welcome the thought of someone looking at my undies). What I am really concerned about was whether he checked inside the shower. Because that thing is sort of overdue for a clean, and I would have hated the 30 centimetre high stack of accumulated black goo falling out on him if he did open the door to have a squiz. Even though he would have deserved it.

So anyway. I come home this evening and there the new curtains are hung up. And I realise, as soon as I see them, that what I really envisaged were the curtains Jane has hanging up in her lounge room and dining room. Lovely, well made, good fabric. The most beautiful delicate creamy yellow sort of colour that are just the perfect offset on her warm cream walls. Sort of the warm yellowey colour that this blog's text background area is right now (which, if you're reading this blog anytime after Winter will probably not make much sense seeing the background will not be the lovely warm yellowey cream it is now :)

So that's what I had in my head, I realise now. Because what I am seeing in front of me is rather different. I dunno, maybe they looked good in the packet at Spotlight. Maybe they were on special. Maybe they looked different in the light of the shop. But now, in the (admitted) darkness of my kitchen, they look akin to a couple of hessian sacks. Of a nondescript grey or brown colour. Something public transport designers would put on their bus or train seats.

Nice bloke, my landlord, but I think he might be colourblind :)


  1. But then, when you requested them, did you specify what they might be like? At least he followed through!

    I get the problem with expectations, which is why for Mother's Day I received a garden hose and a cheese grater. The universe didn't pick up on my wish for Howard Jones tickets, and my ever-practical husband did his best.

  2. Erin - ahhhh, well, now you're going into assertive territory that I don't go into! :)

    Actually, no, I didn't specify because it felt totally inappropriate for me to suggest to him what curtains to put up in his house, you know?? So I didn't. Even though I wanted to :)

    Garden hose and a cheese grater, huh? Hmmmm. Rock on (or not, as the case may be).

    Howard Jones??? Is his hair still all nutso? Does he have any hair to go nutso, LOL

  3. I understand about not wanting to tell him what to put up in his house. But it's funny how we think people can read our minds and then are disappointed when they don't. Myself included. ;)

    For your consideration. He's a Buddhist, you know? Makes sense.

  4. I have thought about Howard Jones for many minutes in a row today. And do you think he's thought about me? Naw.

    I thought about Howard Jones in the shower and pondered how he just flew directly under my radar, and how he is actually pretty deep, isn't he. I'm not sure if his music is really my thing, but I like his philosophical ponderings, even if I didn't appreciate them when I was 15 :)


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