Family rug is family bliss
HUBBY and I recently went shopping for a large area rug for the living room. Sure, sounds easy enough. Turns out trying to scrape the old rego sticker off the station wagon’s windscreen with my teeth would have been simpler – and a lot less painful.
Ever since the early days of our blissful union, when hubby came home with a few furniture shockers from unsupervised visits to home decor stores, we have made a never-to-be-broken pact. When it comes to big-ticket items for our home, for better or for worse, we shop together. Neither of us ever again wants to live through the olive green mosaic coffee table incident.
In an attempt to make the housework easier to manage, a few months ago we had tiles put in the casual living and traffic areas. Tiles are definitely lower down on the housework maintenance scale but still not quite the totally fuss-free ‘hose-it-out-once-a-fortnight’ type of maintenance I was going for when we had them installed.
The major problem with the tiles, apart from the dog not being able to get a grip on them and skidding into the wall anytime he gets some speed up, is all the noise.
Without carpet to absorb and dull the sound, everything is much louder and the noise reverberates around the room which is a big problem in my household as the one thing me or the kids don’t need is assistance with amplification.
So it was time to go rug shopping. We needed a rug that could not only enhance our décor but could dull the noise in our house, which I admit is quite a big ask for one area rug.
We left the first shop quicker than expected which had a lot to do with hubby and a hanging display of rugs. Going by the dark look on the saleslady’s face after hubby knocked the fourth rug to the floor, if we hadn’t beat a speedy retreat to the car park it may have been hubby that was hanging from the ceiling instead of what was left of the rug display.
The second shop was no better. After browsing racks and racks of wool, wool blend, nylon, short pile, high pile, no pile, contemporary, traditional, geometric, floral, Chinese and Turkish rugs we couldn’t find one that we could agree on. I think we were both haunted by the mosaic coffee table incident and were afraid to make a wrong decision.
By the fourth shop we had a winner. It was a style and colour we could both live with and it had a price tag we could look at without needing paperwork for a second mortgage.
“Okay sweetie,” I said to hubby, “just check it for size and if it matches the measurements you took at home, it’s a keeper.” He answered me with a blank stare.
Yep. You guessed it. The man had one job. Before we left home I asked him to measure the space so we would be sure to buy the right sized rug. Was that so difficult? Did I ask the impossible here? Did I ask him to crochet me a rug out of his own navel fluff? At this point in the proceedings I was more than tempted to drive back to the first shop and let the saleslady with the death stare hang him.
It took a while but we eventually came home with a rug. Proudly we put it down on the floor. Twenty minutes later I was on my hands and knees attempting to scrub chocolate milk out of my new rug while my eldest attempted to grunt out an apology. Let’s just say there isn’t a carpet big enough to dull the noise I made.