Speaking of issues with the windows in the house of a member of the opposite sex, what is with your unreasonable hatred of letting me sleep in? I'm not even talking about really sleeping in. Just until 9am would be fine with me. But every single one of your giant, Eastern-facing windows is covered with some fragile half-doily, half-wax paper looking shred of fabric. Sure, it may appear refined according to the most recent issue of Martha Stewart Living, but holy hell, woman, sometimes I want to sleep past sun-up. What are we, Amish? I'm half-surprised you don't have a pet rooster just to complete the theme.
In the middle of the summer, the light comes beaming into my eyes with the intensity of a hot laser at something like 4:45am. I feel like I'm under a magnifying glass. I was comfortable under your blankets a few minutes ago, but now I feel like an ant that an enormous child is trying to set on fire in his backyard.
So please, have some consideration for those that don't want to wake up an hour and a half after finally getting to sleep. I've got a hangover and the last thing I want right now is a blinding brightness that penetrates my closed eyelids. Get some real curtains. It doesn't have to be the wizard-shielding variety in The Wizard of Oz/ high school play opening night-grade heft, but really, ANYTHING--even blinds--would be better than this.