A recent post by Fran, at Being Me, hit a familiar note for me. She writes of her hall carpet and the demands it makes on her time.
I too thought a dark blue carpet would be a great idea. How could something the shade of indigo show dirt? And I was right. In all the years that I had it, it appeared grime free. For all we knew, there was enough soil lurking deep in our rug’s lush roots to re-sod the entire Oklahoma dust bowl.
What I hadn’t factored in was my orange cat, or the fact the woman of the house (who shall remain nameless) also has shedding tendencies. There was also the day-to-day traffic back and forth through the house and to the upstairs, trailing string, threads, and whatever else failed to fall off in the kitchen on the way.
Then there’s the fact that the carpet was the path to the laundry area in the basement, the household lint headquarters. On banner days, a forgotten tissue would transform in the wash into flakes of confetti that would drift down merrily behind us as we carried our baskets upstairs.
On the plus side, one year when I was painting the front door the same shade, I spilled the entire can and no one was the wiser. ( When home projects bring on the blues )
The rug’s superhuman Magneto-like grip on the flotsam and jetsam of our lives drove me at first to kneel on the floor and scrub with the small hand attachment on my vacuum. That lost its charm pretty quickly and next came a massive – and expensive - upright vac so powerful that for safety I put the cats outside when I used it.
After 15 or so years of dealing with either constant vacuuming or living with a floor crosshatched with lint, fibers, and string, the final irony was that when we moved this year, we pulled the whole thing up to lure buyers with the pristine hardwood floors beneath.