Bars

See this little window in our kitchen? Until the other day it had bars in it.

Bars like these.

They weren’t that intrusive. They didn’t really bother me. Actually, I never gave them much thought. As a general rule, I’m opposed to barred windows - they are a physical manifestation of fear and they make me sad. But with these, light still came in and we can’t open that window anyway so who cares if there are bars.

Plus, they were so ridiculous they didn’t even make me sad. I mean, really! Look at the size of that window! Who’s going to climb through that to get at us or our stuff? To compound the absurdity, when we bought the house the front door (right next to this window) was a worm eaten wooden monstrosity (like this one on our bedroom)

that even I, with my spaghetti string arms, could have broken open. And of course, there is also that little detail that the house is in the middle of NOWHERE on a gated, locked, private road. What were those people thinking when they spent energy and money to install those bars?

David hates barred windows even more that I do. So much so that he borrowed a circular-saw-like, bar-cutting, power-tool-thing (I’m sure it has a very household name that I’m just not now familiar with), and cut them out.

I can’t believe how much more light comes into the room now. It’s really incredible.

Kinda makes me wonder about all the other windows in my life that have bars – bars installed out of some ridiculous fear that serve no purpose but to keep out the light.