For Sale: Lovely Maroon Curtains – CHEAP

Photographs were taken. Dances were danced. Phone calls were made. Television crews filmed, newscasters reported. (Well, not really on the filming or news reports. But they should have.)

The maroon curtains are down. Dismantled. An ugly memory.

Excuse me, I’m feeling a little emotional here.

Because not only are the curtains a pile of excreted maroon on the living room floor, but the living room walls are GREEN.  (A happy green, not a mental institution green…except in artificial light. But we have other rooms to hang out in after dark.)

Yup, curtains came down, I painted my little heart out, and voila! I’m not embarrassed when people come to my house anymore!

Does anyone know a blue whale who needs a maroon ball gown?

(For last week’s post, “Marooned,” click here.)

Marooned!

When you move into a house that has been previously lived in, there might be a few…how can I put this delicately…inherited items. (Indelicate translation: You’re gonna have to deal with crap left there by the previous owners.) These things can range from household cleaners (Scrubbing Bubbles), bath mats (one of which is still in the house. Kinda gross, but that’s how we roll, I guess), an RV cover (don’t even let me get started on that), faded, historic-archival-paper-colored vertical blinds, and maroon curtains. And really, I think we had it easy.

It would be easier if we were quicker on tackling those kinds of things that are Ugly and Soul-Demeaning and Kill You A Little Bit Every Time You Look At Them. Looking at them happens often, especially if they’re located in the front room, copied in triplicate, and use roughly the same amount of fabric as a debutante gown would need if it were created for a blue whale. And her two BFF blue whales.

Window 1

Window 2

Window 3

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the tassled valances to come down. Actually, I have my mother to thank for this one. (Don’t worry, I’ll remember you on Mother’s Day!) I so wish I could share a photo of the tassled valances because they were awful. Well-meaning friends described them as macabre, theatrical, and funereal. I thought that was giving the valances too much credit.

Two years, three months, and twenty-six days have passed since we moved into this house and became the chagrined owners of these Maroon Curtains (something this terrible needs to be capitalized, like Ebola, Hurricane Katrina, and Voldemort).

I’m writing this blog post as a sort of experiment. Last time I complained bitterly about a Horrifying Aspect of Interior Design (again, came with the house), it changed, and it changed quickly. Will this blog post do the trick, now that my laziness and suffering have been shared with the public? Or will I continue to suffer, staring past my maroon-framed windows to the neighbors’ houses across the street and wondering, with a wistful sigh, what color curtains they get to stare past?