Masking Tape

The slanting sun was hitting me in the eye.  I realized I was sitting sideways in front of my computer to avoid the glare spot in the middle of the screen.  Sitting back in my chair and looking out the window, I was thankful as always for my harbour view but irritated today by sunshine; an odd feeling to have in Vancouver, city of semi-perpetual rain.

Ingenuity struck.  If I taped a tea towel over that particular piece of window, the problem would be solved - and I would still be able to be happily distracted by a little pilot boat zip-lining out to a freighter, or a massive container ship being prodded along by tugboats under the Lions Gate bridge.

It would be even more clever, I said to myself as I rummaged in a kitchen drawer, if I used masking tape.  Then it would be easy to move the tea towel along during the day as the sun progressed.

After looking in every drawer and likely cupboard for a roll of masking tape, I entered our apartment’s small man-cave.  Brian sat, engrossed, headphones on in consideration of me, mercifully muffling the sounds of machine gun fire and similar such explosive sound effects.

He took off his headphones and smiled at me, eyebrows raised enquiringly.

I began, “Where’s the…” and then paused as a portcullis slammed down on my memory retrieval system, the word temporarily lost in the moat of my mind.

Brian supplied:  “Masking tape?”