The Battle of the Carpet Hair Booty
Subsequent to The Giant Green Chair Catastrophe of 2002, I am fully onboard with the notion that bringing home measurements and fabric swatches is a worthwhile pursuit. Things look different in real life than they do in the store. Which is why I asked Rick, the excitable carpet salesman, if I could take a slice of #63 Honeydew Flotaki carpet to test it out in situ. To my dimay, Rick claimed he didn't have any Honeydew for take-out. What a pill.
Yet I was not to be deterred, launching immediately into a persuasive and rational dissertation on why Rick should spare me a square. Certainly he could count on me to return it. I have a well-deserved reputation for bringing back carpet swatches, even when nobody wants them back and is frankly surprised when I show up with a pile of matted pile. I made it clear to Rick that I'm a relentless, guilt-ridden greenie and carpet is made from a petroleum derivative.
Rick remained steely-eyed, limp wristed and completely unmoved by my unimpeachable logic. So I resorted to whining and he must have realized this could go on for a while. In the spirit of teamwork and because he probably had plans that evening, Rick came up with a Nobel-prizewinning compromise. He got himself an Exacto knife and cut off a selection of carpet hairs, which he handed to me bouquet style:
I carried my little bundle home like the carpet hair stalks were made of gold.
So how do you think the carpet will look?
Here's another angle so you can get the full effect:
Yet I was not to be deterred, launching immediately into a persuasive and rational dissertation on why Rick should spare me a square. Certainly he could count on me to return it. I have a well-deserved reputation for bringing back carpet swatches, even when nobody wants them back and is frankly surprised when I show up with a pile of matted pile. I made it clear to Rick that I'm a relentless, guilt-ridden greenie and carpet is made from a petroleum derivative.
Rick remained steely-eyed, limp wristed and completely unmoved by my unimpeachable logic. So I resorted to whining and he must have realized this could go on for a while. In the spirit of teamwork and because he probably had plans that evening, Rick came up with a Nobel-prizewinning compromise. He got himself an Exacto knife and cut off a selection of carpet hairs, which he handed to me bouquet style:
I carried my little bundle home like the carpet hair stalks were made of gold.
So how do you think the carpet will look?
Here's another angle so you can get the full effect:
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