RUG RAT

We’ve always been envious of friends who have done it in every room of their house. So, we finally decided it was now or never: we were going to re-carpet our entire home. We had successfully avoided this huge hassle in the past by moving just as the carpet had worn out our welcome. Early in our relationship, we once moved when the fridge needed to be defrosted. We just couldn’t be bothered.

We knew our carpet was dirty and disgusting when we started wiping our feet before going outside. Also, when friends came over for a cocktail, we told everyone it was a shag carpet. It really wasn’t. It just looked that way because we’ve had dogs and cats for 32 years. Sometimes I walked out of my bathroom while brushing my teeth in order to watch TV in my home office. There were a few toothpaste globs on the floor. I scraped them up now and then. They looked a lot like dinner mints.

In preparation for this big move (of course, we were not moving but we might as well have been), I bought a book called: The Complete Carpet Buying Guide, by Alan Fletcher. The book is wall-to-wall with great ideas. Mary Ellen kept telling me to put the book down and go to bed. “Just a few more pages,” I pleaded.  I still hadn’t gotten to chapter six: Making it all work in the bedroom.

Once we made the decision to go ahead with the project, I stood at the bottom of the stairs and scanned the house. The immensity of the task overwhelmed me. I wondered if we really had to do the first and second floor at the same time.

“Two stories in one day is a lot to cover, Mary Ellen.”

“Isn’t that the attitude that got you demoted at Channel 8?”

When it was time to pick the color, Mary Ellen pretended she wanted my input so she flung some carpet samples on the floor. “Help me decide between the bistro, buff, desert sun, kangaroo, ecru, fallow, fawn, russet, sepia, moose antler, tawny, sienna and Sahara. I want something that won’t stain when you walk into the living room eating your breakfast cereal.”

“Do they have something in a nice Wheaties shade?”

“Dick, this is hard work. Which color do you like?”

“Okay, beige,”

“They’re all beige.”

“See, that’s what made it so tough. Time for a beer.”

Before they could install the carpet, this guy named Luke came to measure each room. He strolled through the house, scanning the walls and floors to get the dimensions with this really cool laser device. I asked him how many people called him Luke Floorwalker, and he said I was the first. That day. 

Because I am cheap, I was looking for ways to cut corners. (Actually, the carpet installers do that for you at no extra charge.) The idea I came up with was to take the dozens of carpet samples we had and use them to create a patchwork of colors that would cover one entire room. Mary Ellen said that was the stupidest idea I ever had in our entire relationship. She’s so young to be losing her memory.

MY ONE NIGHT STAND

BEDSIDE MANNERS

This is an article about my one night stand. No, I didn’t have a one night stand. I bought one. (I’m making this worse, aren’t I?)  Let me try this: I purchased one night stand at a local mega-hardware store.  It was packaged in several parts, but the box said, “Assembly Very Easy.” I was suspicious. That was exactly what my third grade teacher said before she made me sing in front of the entire student body at Roosevelt Elementary School.  I remember swearing that was the last assembly I’d ever do.

Of course, I have broken that pledge a couple of times already.  About two years ago, I tried to put a wall unit together, but I stressed out when the shelves didn’t fit properly.  I walked away frustrated, but the cat liked what she saw. We now have the world’s most expensive kitty litter box.

Overall, this should have been an easy task. Every piece in the kit was assigned a letter. All the grooves were numbered and there was an actual picture of all six kinds of screws and four types of nails. I once saw a guy on YouTube complete the Rubik’s Cube blindfolded using only his feet. Some guys get all the easy gigs.

The first problem was that the directions were in three languages: English, Spanish and French. This was an immediate distraction to me because the phrase “Avec precaution, retourner l’element sur ses chants avant,” sounds a lot saucier than “Carefully turn your unit over and onto its front edges.” The second problem was that I’m not good with tools. Like, the directions said I needed a Phillips screwdriver. That would be equal parts vodka, orange juice and Milk of Magnesia, right?

I was relieved to find there was a hotline number—answered, I am sure, by the very same kind of people who respond to those life and death turkey questions on Thanksgiving morning. One year, I abused that phone number after downing a couple of wine coolers.  I called to ask if I could take a frozen turkey in the sauna with me to defrost it. It’s hard to make those folks laugh. By the way, this furniture manufacturer only answers the phone between 8 a.m. and midnight, so by 7:59 in the morning the lines start lighting up with frustrated customers like me who were up all night wondering who Allen is and where he put his stupid wrench.  

One of the things they instruct the buyer to do is register the product. I’ll register to vote; I’m happy to show a police officer my registration; and I’m never shy about registering my opinion.  But I will not register my night stand.  I have my rights. If they want their night table back they’ll have to pry it away from my cold dead hands.

Once the bedside table was completely assembled, I was pretty happy with myself, although it did take me four hours and three phone calls to complete my task. I must admit, however, that I am not totally confident I got it to look 100 percent like the photo on the box.  But Mary Ellen must have been impressed when she got home.  She thought it was the biggest birdhouse she had ever seen.