Sadly, in the office there's no window but in my space at home in Chicago where I do all of my creative production there's a big window I look out of on to my backyard. I've populated it with lots of bird feeders, so all year round there are lots of birds. It's like a little aviary in my backyard. I find the birds both whimsical and inspiring but also really calming.
I have lots of windows in my house but I'm someone who doesn't have window coverings on any of them. I like to always be able to see the world outside and know that I'm not trapped within the walls. Conversely, I don't use my overhead lighting when it gets dark. At night I have lots of lamps that all have interesting shades so it never casts a fully white light. My house is often lit like my films. There's something that I find really inspiring about moving through a dramatically lit house at night.
I have an old house that can be a little bit creaky. I have two cats, a dog and a turtle. The cats and the turtle are nocturnal so there's not a night that I don't wake up to some noise where I'm thinking, "What's that? Is there someone in the house?" I feel like there's some aspect of the horror genre built into my daily life.
When I first moved in I had this sense that the house was haunted. Shortly after I had my second son, there was a night I heard him fussing. I was like, "Oh God, okay, I'll go get him." Then I heard these footsteps in the adjacent room where he was, walking back and forth, and then he stopped fussing. I thought, "Oh, his dad must have gone to him." I rolled over and his dad was still in the bed. I didn't even get up, I just thought, "I'm not even going to go into the other room."
My theory is a woman had died in the house who was also a mother and that somehow she went in there and soothed my fussy baby in the middle of the night. But she didn't stay. Maybe that's all she needed was one last cuddle or something.