THE GODAWFUL CURTAINS

Well, the curtains were in—as you know—Tenant street when we moved in, and I thought they were godawful. I mean, they’re hideous. Even the material—it’s just this rough cotton. And they were too short for the windows. But that’s what my dad really liked the curtains to be, as you know—because we moved into the house which Dad owns, and we rented it out and everything.

I wanted to get rid of the curtains, but he said no—because he spent a lot of money on them.

Which, I later found out, was a lie. Because according to Mum, he didn’t spend a goddamn dime on them. Turns out, he took those curtains from Aunt May’s apartment after she died and just put them up on Tenant street. So, I took them down. I replaced them. I gave them to Dad to take away in case he wanted them for, you know, him and Mum’s place. And then for some reason… he brought them back. But I still, I just don’t want them. I just hate them so much.

So strangely enough here they are today—in this box that is literally falling apart under the weight of them, because they’re so heavy as well. And they really have that musty, damp smell to them. Probably just from being in the box for so long.

But hey— I’m sure my great-aunt would be so happy to know that her curtains are being put to good use.