I used to have carpets in my room. They were glorious red, and they were the softest things in the world.
I had never had carpets in my bedroom before. I always had hardwood floor, and the carpets were usually in the living room. That made these carpets on my floor the greatest things in the world.
Now that I think about it, I may have had carpets when I was about four in a house we lived in for a year or so. We moved a lot, so remembering houses exactly is a little tough sometimes. Especially the ones we didn’t stay in for so long.
Anyways, after awhile the carpets weren’t so magical anymore. they got dirty, and our vacuums kept breaking so it didn’t get swept very often. Then we got a puppy. The carpets weren’t magical after all when that happened. They started to smell, and I would get down on my little hands and knees and scrub the carpet with a washcloth and carpet cleaner. I disinfected and scrubbed and everything, but it was to no avail. Finally, my mom decided to take the carpets out. It was for the best, but at the time I was not a happy camper.
The floor under the carpet was so gross. It was like a tiny little ecosystem thrived underneath where I had been walking, and I was the queen of all the microbes and dust bunnies- unbeknownst to me up until that point.
We didn’t have another carpet or tiles or anything to replace the one we just tore up, so I had to walk around on the very uncomfortable grain that was underneath it. That was the day I started wearing socks every day all the time. My grandma finally brought over this really big, terrible looking rug to put on my floor. Since my room was pretty small it covered almost the entire thing. The rug also slowly started to get disgusting. This was mostly due to my dog- the one who had ruined my carpet as a puppy- would empty out the trash when we were gone and strew it throughout my room, grease and coffee grain getting all over the rug. And me with no vacuum.
I had to start scrubbing my rug, just like I had to do to the old carpet. It worked, but it was a lot of effort. I was getting very pissed at my poor, confused doggy.
Finally my boyfriend moved in. I still had the grainy floors that attracted hair like a magnet both on my rub and between the bits of grain on the floor. This was pretty terrible since we found out my boyfriend was allergic to cats, and I happened to have three of those.
One of them likes to climb on his chest in the middle of the night and sleep there.
Luckily he wasn’t deathly allergic, because I couldn’t imagine having to get rid of my cats. Or my boyfriend, for that matter.
There’s a new type of floor you can put it. It’s a mix between tiles/fake hardwood floors, and it’s so amazing. It’s a floating floor, so you can install it yourself rather quickly. It’s super reasonably priced, so that was going to go into our room.
Me and Justin and my mom started to put it in. The sides needed to be trimmed to fit door frames and everything, so they had to be cut with a saw. That terrified the shit out of me. I trust electric saws almost as much as I trust cars.
After an entire day of putting boards together like little puzzle pieces (Actually it was mostly my mom and Justin. There wasn’t really room for two people, and I’m definitely the most useless of the three) the floor was finally done. It looked amazing. It was a brown hardwood floor with darker tints of an orange grain, and is contrasted gorgeously with my blue walls. I could finally lay on my floor and not worry about gross all over it.
Three days passed, and there was hair everywhere. And tiny pebbles from where people walked in an out of the house. And food particles from crackers. And for the first time, I could see it all. All of the dirt, all of the hair, it was terrible for me. I went on a sweeping rampage. It’s also hurting my poor boyfriend when I don’t sweep. The hair just kind of accumulates, and his poor nose is stuffed up the entire day. I have to sweep every day now. Every single day or the tiny army of microbes are going to swarm over my body in the middle of the night, and take me in my sleep.
Or all of the hair of all of my animals will combine into some other animal, and I’ll have to start feeding and paying its vet bills too.
I can’t let that happen.