When we went to the Wairarapa a month ago for an extended Anzac weekend holiday (read: shopping and peering at Peter Jackson's house to see if he is building a railway, he is!), we somewhat randomly ordered some curtains, without doing any of that tedious checking out samples to see if they'll match the house stuff.
The woman is delivering them today. We can't remember what they're like at all.
And we can't think why we decided to spend money on curtains rather than cases of wine and cocaine.
Middle-aged I suppose.