You know, sometimes I think I got engaged to Bluebeard.

Huh?

Oh, come on. Mysterious rich man that forbids his significant other from entering a very specific room in his house?

Yes, I’m an ugly murderous widower. How’d you guess?

Seriously, though, why...

We’ve been through this. I’m an artist. I need privacy so I can concentrate.

All right, I get that, but what about when you’re not working?

Look, I’m not that good a painter. I may have a vision, but I don’t have the skill and experience to match. My paintings take a lot of work. If people saw them before they were finished, they’d notice every flaw, every mistake I make along the way. I’m already nervous about exhibiting them when they’re done. Please, don’t pressure me about this.

OK, OK, forget I brought it up.