Hundreds of people have visited the treehouse over the last few years. Many of them are people I don’t know; just folks passing through our quiet part of Maine who glance over, see this amazing little house in the sky, and slam on their brakes. They get out, point, take pictures, and I usually come out and chat with them. This invariably leads to a trip across the yard and up the drawbridge to the treehouse where they “ooh” and “ahh” and wander around with their mouths open.
Not long ago a nice couple on vacation from far away stopped by and we weren’t in the treehouse for five seconds before the woman said, “Curtains.”
“Pardon?” I said.
“You have all these windows,” she said, “but no curtains. What’s up with that?”
“Funny, I never noticed,” I said, a bit sheepishly. Then I went into long-winded (and poorly developed) rationalization that talked about wanting to let in lots of light, and I have squirrels (who claw and chew on everything: see Nov. 2 post), and, and….
She held up her hand to stop me. “It must be a guy thing,” she said.
Then she looked around like she’d lost track of a toddler. “Where’s your guestbook?” she asked.
“Um…I don’t have one,” I said.
“No curtains, no guestbook, I really have to talk to your wife,” she said, shaking her head.
An hour after the couple left, they were back. They had gone into the village to visit the trinket and antique shops.
“Here,” the woman said with a wide smile, holding out a small package. “Now you have a guest book.”
Now, whenever folks visit the treehouse, I always say, “Oh, won’t you please sign my guestbook?”
It’s a guy thing.