Bath time

I'm living in a new apartment. I don't know how long I've been living there, but things are mostly unpacked and settled -- even though I don't recognize any of the trinkets or knick-knacks as mine -- so presumably it's been a while.

The apartment is housed inside some kind of huge mansion owned by an older lady who lives there with her family. She seems like a typical middle-class Southern lady: freckled from years of sun damage, and wearing cheesy granny clothes. She's even wearing a sun visor.

The bathroom in my apartment is rather large. It has expansive windows on two adjacent walls -- one side looks into the mansion's giant indoor pool room, and the other side looks onto a grassy courtyard.

There's a jacuzzi tub in the middle of the room, made of slick, dark material. I want to strip down and take a bath in it so bad, but I don't want to be seen, either by the family inside, splashing around in the pool, or any passersby who might happen through the courtyard.

I walk over to the drapes dressing the windows facing the courtyard and close them with a great flourish (they are huge -- the size of stage curtains). They glide shut and I realize I've lost all the natural light and the bathroom is suddenly quite dark. I open the curtains back up and close the sheers instead, but worry that people might still be able to see me inside.