Sofia wants glass curtains for the terrace. Amasvista Glass, to be specific. I didn’t even know what glass curtains were until she showed me approximately fifty Pinterest boards full of sleek, sun-drenched patios belonging to people who clearly don’t live anywhere near Ibiza in winter. The problem?
Winter here isn’t winter-winter, but it’s also not sit outside in your linen dress sipping a spritz weather either.
Sofia, ever the optimist, believes she’ll enjoy morning coffee on the terrace year-round if only we install these fancy retractable glass panels. I, ever the realist, point out that if she’s already complaining about the chill now, a thin sheet of glass isn’t going to suddenly turn the terrace into the Maldives.
Cue the stare.
The one that suggests I am failing, once again, to embrace the full potential of our dream home. The one that makes me want a cigarette.
I don’t light one, obviously. I haven’t had one in months. But my brain, the traitor, immediately reminds me how good a cigarette used to taste when I was stuck in a discussion that felt more like a sales pitch than a home improvement conversation.
But here’s the thing—I don’t actually hate the idea of glass curtains. I get it. It’s an investment, it adds value to the property, and in theory, it extends our living space. Plus, if Amasvista Glass is as good as Sofia claims (she’s now on a first-name basis with their customer service team), it’ll be a sleek addition.
It’s just not all that practical. First, there’s the obvious problem that Amasvista Glass install glass curtains in Alicante & Valencia, on mainland Spain. Getting them over to Ibiza will be extra costs. Second, our house has only just become habitable after two years as a building site.
Can’t we enjoy it sans-dust for just a couple months longer?
Is it worth arguing?
What I do hate is the creeping realization that I’ve gone from negotiating AI-driven networking deals with Fortune 500 executives to debating the merits of wind-resistant glass panels over breakfast. This isn’t the life I pictured when I built my business. I was supposed to be hopping between conferences, sealing partnerships, shaking hands in overpriced hotel lobbies. And yet, here I am, researching thermal insulation properties and wondering if I should just say yes to end the conversation.
Ibiza has a way of making you confront yourself. There’s no endless stream of business meetings to distract me. No chaotic city energy to keep my mind buzzing. Just the quiet hum of the Mediterranean, the occasional contractor appointment, and the slow, creeping realization that I might actually be bad at relaxing.
Sofia, of course, has no such issue. She’s already envisioning our future in a fully enclosed, sunlit terrace while I’m still stuck on whether I’ll regret this the moment summer rolls around and the place turns into a greenhouse.
Amasvista’s team is coming next week to give us a quote. I’ll smile, nod, and pretend I had any real say in the matter. Because let’s be honest—those glass curtains are happening whether I like it or not.
And if they’re not as magical as promised? Well, at least I’ll have another reason to take more business trips.