16 September 2013

Voyeuristic Owls

For the last two years, we've had a transparent shower curtain.  When I bought the thing, I was thinking, "Oh, it will make our small bathroom seem bigger."  It was also the cheapest.  This is why I'm not an interior designer.

We have had countless meltdowns outside the bathroom door in the last two years because a small person needed to use the toilet, while someone else was taking a shower and neither person wanted to see the other doing their business.

So, when my mother told me a store she frequents, which I will not name on account of its ghetto propensities (hints: it has senior citizen discount days and rhymes with chopko),  was having a 50% discount sale on all its shower curtains, I loaded the kids in the car and headed over.  I had to act quickly because the sun was going down and I didn't want to risk being in the parking lot when the hoodlums emerged after dark to snatch my purse and rob me of my dignity. (Yes, I'm exaggerating.  When writers do it, it's called creative license.)

We found the aisle we wanted and I debated with my kids over which one would look the best in our smallish bathroom.  My daughter has great taste in all things ensemble, so I took her advice and bought the curtain with the cute little owls perched on black trees with leaves in the background.

We got it home, hung it, and were pardonably pleased with the effect.  No more crying outside the bathroom door because we now had a partition between toilet and shower.  No more business watching on either side.  And it looked good.

There's just one problem.

These owls have big, surprised eyes.  Interested eyes, if you know what I mean.  And they're the kind of eyes that follow you, no matter where you are.  If you can see them, they're watching you.  So, every time I go in the bathroom, I have 16 pairs of eyes staring at me.  One owl is just peeking over the bottom hem, like it knows it shouldn't be watching, but it just can't help itself.

It's a little creepy.

If I weren't so cheap, I'd buy a new one.  But then, I'd probably have those big, interested eyes filling my dreams with their accusations.

No comments: