I’m going to guess that I’m surprising and enlightening NO ONE when I talk about this new-fangled thingamerbobber on Teh Internets called GOOGLE MAPS. I’m not even talking about the fancy Google Earth or your hoity toity Google Space. Just plain old Google Maps – Street View. New concept to me because I, apparently, live in a cave of darkness. A cave of darkness where NO ONE TELLS ME ANY OF THE GOOD STUFF.
Anystalker, this Google Map thing was brought to my attention by none other than the women in my office, twenty years my senior. I’m supposed to be the super techie robot-minded future generation, people. Not the 50 year-old ladies who curse at their voice mails for stealing their messages.
But it happened and so I have to live with it. They showed me Google Maps. They showed me by showing me my house. Strike that. They showed me by showing me the inside of my house. You could see inside my windows. Well, you could have seen inside my windows had I not had the insight of a psychic to purchase an north-facing house that happened to be reflecting the sun in its front windows on this particular day that the photos were taken. Otherwise, you could have seen inside my house.
Wow, that’s super cooooo….waitaminute. If I can see inside my house (theoretically), then so can other people. Like, other other people. People I don’t want seeing inside my house.
So, I went snooping around to my coworker’s houses (with their permission, of course)(and by “their permission”, I mean they didn’t throw a stapler at me to make me stop)(not that a stapler to the head would have stopped me, but it sure would have made me pause). I saw a friend of mine standing in front of a coworker’s house, seemingly not picking a wedge, but we’ll never be sure. I saw my mother-in-law watering her garden in her front lawn.
I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit. This is where privacy stops. When people on the internet can happen upon my house and see inside (theoretically). There’s nothing left. I have nothing to hide, but I shouldn’t have to think of it as hiding. I should just know that my home is my sanctuary and what happens inside is my business. Even if that’s just a whole lot of track-pants-wearing, cookie-eating and bad-tv-watching. Even if that’s it.
Oh, well. There’s nothing I can do about it now. At least the sun was on my side that day. And my gardens looked good. At least there’s that.