I hung the dark blue dotted curtains in my kitchen, which has three windows. A small one above the sink and two mid-sized windows on one wall. One window opens up to my landlord's stairway to his second floor apartment. The glass is covered in a thick layer of dust from his side and through the haze one can make out the clutter of old paint cans, his recycling bin, tools, and trash. Discouraged, I bought opaque curtains to shut out his mess and consequently shielded the sun from the other window. My kitchen with its faded striped wallpaper, peeling up boxy linoleum, and winter drafts from the basement and outside door is my least favorite room in the house. A few weeks ago I went on vacation to California and ate each meal sitting on a deck overlooking the ocean. Determined to make my kitchen more liveable, I pulled down the dark drapes and replaced them with white patterned curtains that allow the sunlight to spill across my kitchen table and onto the floor.
I disliked the other curtains from the moment I removed them from the packaging and hung them in my bedroom. An odd green color with squiggles and fringe, they looked like something that belonged with white Christmas trees, and upholstered couches from the 70s. I though maybe if I let them hang around long enough I'd learn to like them. Three years later when my husband moved out my bedroom was the first room to be redecorated. I replaced the green curtains, bedspread, sheets, and rug with shades of red and bunched these curtains up in a bag in my closet. For day five I will donate them to a local Salvation Army and hope that they can provide warmth and comfort to someone else.
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