Maybe our neighbors. But screw 'em.
I freely admit that if we didn't have a 4-poster fairy bower, we could've oriented the bed another way without hitting the ceiling fan. And that it's the boxed-in sensation of being under that canopy which turns the weirdly-sumptuous drapes on this big-ass window into a puppet show's stage curtain, inspiring the urge to do a one-man Punch & Judy show. After I regain consciousness, however, I object that it is that weirdo window that robs our room of its superior-upstairs-heat all winter, and greenhouse-blasts the place all summer. To which my nonexistent opponent raises one invisible eyebrow and asks why we chose it in the first place then. And I am forced to rebut with Are you kidding, look at the SIZE of that thing; it's Alaska, man, I need the LIGHT.
Plus, some previous inhabitants painted one wall aubergine and the others buttercream. That's OUTSTANDING.