I have been a petrie dish for four weeks off and on with the cold and flu season. I have re-entered life healthy, with a dirty house and a vengence to clean. Armed with photos to scan, toilet brush and laundry soap, hubby and I have tackled the last of the monster called housework. So clean, in fact, that I would have Martha Stewart over but she would still have comments about my floors.
"I see you have removed your carpet?" she would say blankly.
"Yes, the former owner decided that the Home Depot carpet off the roll was a great deal (read: cheapest garbage) and carpeted the entire house in it." I would reply pretending to smile, "The carpet cleaner that gave us a bid said that this was the cheapest pile of...carpet you could find and proceeded to do a test patch. His bid was over $200, which of course, we refused. I considered cleaning it myself and after about a month the 'test' spot molded. So rather than clean it, we removed it. I sweep my living room clean. It's so easy." I smile and strike a house-wifey pose with the broom.
"How curious! What will you be replacing it with? Antique, refurbished hard wood from an old historic mansion in Connecticut?" Her eagerness is worth mentioning as the thought almost makes her drool.
"Well, Martha...", I smile as I hand her an embroidered hankie, "We considered that but since I morally cannot sell my body on a street corner for a good profit and I didn't make my millions doing time in nappy denim overalls, we are considering a more affordable option. Concrete and new carpet."
I continued, "We will be carpeting the bedrooms and living room but will have my husband, a master concrete finisher and designer, install stamped and stained concrete for the high traffic areas."
"How delightful!" She is suddenly impressed and she makes a mental note secretly wishing she had known of this for her own house.
"Darn that $1500 a square foot carpet," Martha would think to herself, as she just purchased replacement carpet for her 5th fully-decorated house, noticeably absent of anything remotely denim.
******
I think the kitchen cleaner fumes are getting to me.
After months of no carpet and concrete flooring, I found out I am a floor-sitter. I have four kids who naturally end up in a dog pile on the living room floor at least twice a week. It's been said about children that there is nothing with more gravitational pull than a parent lying on the floor. I think it's like sign-language for SIT ON ME. But this hasn't happened in a while. Hubby has recently changed jobs and it looks enevitable he will again. Carpet will happen soon enough when I don't balance the checkbook down to the last penny and we have rebuilt a savings account.
Until then, I really don't mind sweeping my living room. Summer is coming and they will be outside, scratching the paint on my van with evil, little hot wheels, and making mud pies from my flower garden.
Dog piles on the couch will just have to do until then.
No comments:
Post a Comment
"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe