It is that time of year – the chaos part. I am craving some candlelight to balance our lives. For now the crazy fairy lights (which I love at any time of the year *blush*) and Christmas decorations aplenty will have to do. As a substitute for some genteel candlelight, the razzle dazzle of Christmas doesn’t do to badly.
Don’t ask me why, but I’ve chosen this crazy and horrendously busy time of year to replace the carpets in the bedrooms.
When we bought this place two and a half years ago, we agreed that the carpet needed to be changed, a hell of a lot of painting needed to go down, and the kitchen needed to be ejected entirely. Then life kicked me in the guts and stuck me in hospital gowns and forced me to sleep on plastic covered mattresses and plasticky, crunchy pillows for the best part of two years. I’m starting to recover and well, here comes the carpet.
The thing is, it’s not the carpet itself. It’s that the long overdue changes that will make this MY home are beginning. As it stands, this house still really belongs to it’s previous owners, if not in name, it certainly still belongs to them in style.
A little inventory of the current carpet landscape:
Bedroom One – girl’s bedroom, a bright pink carpet (with a simply LOVELY teddy bear wallpaper boarder halfway up the walls). The pink has evolved to the colour I imagine puce to be. A plush pile with dirt tinted tips. Nice.
Bedrooms Two and Three -Ice blue plush, I am certain not one of these rooms has ever seen a steam cleaner in the 20 or so years since the carpet was laid. So, it is not ice blue – it is the colour of a muddy puddle, which blends in beautifully with the pink and grey floral, half-length window seat curtains and matching pelmet. As I said – nice.
So while in town on other errands, I inadvertently toddle towards the flooring shop, just to get an idea of how much it might cost to replace the abovementioned travesty I call our carpet, never intending to actually order anything, just to anchor my dream of finally getting rid of that manky carpet somewhere closer to the ground I stand on – rather than floating in the stratosphere alongside the dream of resisting chocolate, and brushing up against the idea of inventing a never ending vanilla slice.
I digress. Back to the flooring shop incident.
It went something like this:
I entered the carpet shop.
I relayed the dimensions of aforementioned rooms to the enormous wall of a man who runs the shop.
I requested a price for, let’s say, that carpet.
I point to an inoffensive dark beige sample.
The purveyor of quality floors taps on his calculator – tap, tap, tap.
He gives me a number.
My mouth opens and words “when can you come and lay the carpet?” unbidden, tumble forth.
We sorted out the particulars – addresses, days and such.
Then somewhat astounded and a touch excited, I left the shop.
It is just a small thing – a small step for man – to coin a phrase. I intend for this to be the beginning of a new chapter. For after a spinal injury, I guess any kind of step is a blessing.
On leaving the shop, some other kind of feeling came over me. One that, as it turns out, is a good substitute for candlelight.