Glass and more Glass

Glass and more Glass

"What you have done to the place is simply marvelous, Lucy," the Reverend's wife said to me amidst the nods of the other matrons in our rather upper crust social circle.

They joined me for tea and scones this beautiful spring morning on my invitation. It was my chance to show off our newly renovated house.

"Why, thank you, Eleanor," I replied as I led them out to the patio trestle already laden with our fare. I poured out a round of tea, smiling at the compliments.

"Really girls," I said, "it's all about the architect and the one I hired was so progressive. He insisted on glass everywhere, floor to ceiling windows, and I agree with him."

I strategically seated myself with my back to the house allowing my friends a full view of it, which they eagerly took advantage of.

"It's fantastic, Lucy," Eleanor said, "but why is that narrow one frosted? It interrupts the flow of glass."

I cringed. "That's my husband's..."

They stopped talking and stared at the house when we heard a jarring screech which I recognized as my husband bursting into song.

I chuckled to hide my embarrassment. "Ignore that. It's my husband singing while he showers. As I was saying, my husband doesn't have an artistic bone in his body. He objected to the big windows." I laughed. "He thought they were immodest." To my delight, the ladies tittered at this." It was a compromise to put in a narrow frosted bathroom window. The prude thought it still wouldn't be enough."

Eleanor threw her eyes up to heaven, took a sip of tea and then spewed it out of her nose. Everyone stared at the house. I turned to see my husband's full moon pressed against the frosted glass.