Window War

My ‘me’ has hired a new girl to help with her housework, the last girl quit in November saying she cant stand living under such a mean woman who zaps the happiness out of life. I totally agree. So this poor new victim has been here about one month. The water taps are still dysfunctional, so luckily, my ‘me’ had just installed a giant water container that collects rainwater from the gutters, unluckily its right next to my window.
This means that the dozen or so times a day (often more) that someone needs water they come and stand three feet from my window. Most people politely avert their gaze and focus on the banal task of collecting water, but some take their chances and peer into the depths of my rondaval.
This new girl has taken an almost religious reverence to glancing into my home. It must be done without fail every time my window is approached. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, whether to see what kind of fancy “stuff” the American has or to see what the hell it is I DO all day inside. Either way it drives me crazy to be sitting and having coffee, gazing out the window thoughtfully, only to be startled by a pair of searching eyes, which invariably reminds me that I haven’t moved in hours. Then I am flooded with guilt at the realization that this young girl has been staking me out for some time and has no doubt concluded that I’m the laziest blob of white meat she’s ever seen.
It pains me that she’s reached this conclusion without considering the buzzing amount of mental activity I could be involved in. There’s thinking, and lots of it. Mostly about myself. Like, “What outfit am I going to wear when my family shows up to visit…” run scenario… “I wonder when I’m going to get to go to the Bloem mall again? I really need new sunglasses…aviators this time…” “I’m hungry” “It’s too early for lunch. Well what else are you gonna do all day? Ok, fine I’ll make lunch, after I’m done thinking about all the different clubs and social activities I’m going to join in America, like a salsa class, and how we’ll have public fundraisers, and I wonder what color and length dress I should wear for my lead part?...”
And so on. Fascinating right? So anyway, in order to save this new girl from making anymore erroneous conclusions on my behalf and the fact that having anybody staring into my home is more than a bit irritating, I erected a screen. This screen is a thinly stitched white curtain that lets in plenty of light and allows me to continue gazing out the window in a thoughtful manner, while compromising a peekers ability to ascertain the interior situation. Viola! Problem solved.
I’ve happily cut off all possibility for the new girl to entertain herself in the slightest when she fetches water. The tiny, American kingdom that is my home has closed off its last immigration window to the bored and curious masses of Lesotho.
However, I’m sure there is someone holding an accordion nearby, ready to pollute the air with shouting and sound noise, eager to entertain the Basotho in the same way they’ve been entertained for the last hundred years. And do they enjoy it. Makes me want to grab a razor and pull off a double van Gogh, but to everyone their own taste. Plus, I’m going to need my ears in a few months, when my life doesn’t resemble the top portion of a list entitled: Things I Wouldn't Really Want To Do.