The Carpet Is Up, The Gloves Are Off

Have you ever tried to convince a chicken to sit still? Have you ever tried to bribe one with food? Have you ever tried to convince one that being a cover-hen is a prestigious line of work? They are a lot less gullible than you would imagine. Not only that? They are totally flighty! Pearl (pictured above) will never win a Nobel prize for being an ill-socialized genius, yet I can't help but admire her natural reticence concerning interactions with humans and her total feminist-like disinterest in modeling. For all that, she did well. Angela and I must have taken about fifty shots of her and it took some real animal-trainer savvy on my part.

Several times I had to soothe her with reminders that I do not eat the flesh of animals nor do I eat my family pets. I think she believed me.

There is a very specific person out there in the world (most likely still in California) who HATES the sounds chickens make. It's kind of sad that this person, who was ultimately evil*, continues to live in my head after making me get rid of my first beloved flock of hens over two years ago. I think about her every time I listen to my girls cooing, clucking, and squawking, sounds that I find deeply therapeutic. (Even the loud squawking they do while laying.) This person had two vacations ruined by the noise that chickens make. I mean, how is that even possible?

I wonder if there will be a time when her name and her chicken hate will stop ringing in my ears? You know what gives me joy, though? The knowledge that if she moved next door to me now, she could not make me get rid of my girls. And if she complained too much? I could legally get seven more of them!!!! Ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!

The carpet came up and what was revealed underneath was a gorgeous wood floor in great condition. There are three or four deep divots in it that will need filling and fixing, but the rest of it is just perfect! Angela, who weirdly seems to know everything, says that my floors have a wax finish on them (because if I drop water on them they will temporarily discolor) which means I can buff them to make them shine again. I don't think my knee will allow me to do this by hand on all fours. Did I not tell you about my injury?

Let's just put it this way: after a number of years reprogramming myself to stop referring to myself as a klutzomaniac, it appears I used to call myself that for good reason. I have a talent for falling and scraping my knees, breaking my hips, and destroying what little strength I have left in my joints. Not to mention the constant deterioration of my dignity. Last week I fell down and scraped off all seven layers of skin on my right knee. It has a very painful scab on it right now.

A lesson that almost everyone who buys a house learns is to not wait to make small changes that will increase your happiness and house satisfaction. What happens to so many of us is that we get busy and stressed so we go ahead and fill our brand new living room with our huge load of crap and then months go by and we realize that we still don't have time to paint the walls so we may as well hang pictures up. The job just gets more and more insurmountable. Then you do these things right before you have to sell it and you kick yourself because your house is suddenly the house you always wished it was and now you're preparing to hand it over to someone else. Someone else who is probably going to paint all your pretty walls stark white again right after you hand them the keys.

In spite of learning this lesson repeatedly, I continue to make the same choices, the same mistakes. Time is not actually on my side. I should have done these things right away. Do you know how much dust came clouding up out of that carpet as I yanked it up? Dust my vacuum couldn't suck up, apparently. (And I have a great vacuum.) Dust we've been breathing. Is this why Philip's asthma has gotten worse? Carpets really are filth traps. Yes, I know, I know I always start sounding like Howard Hughes when I talk about wall to wall carpeting. Area rugs can be rolled up and sent to the deep cleaners. Wall to wall sits on it's padding for fifteen years hanging onto every stain, every disgusting particle of cat vomit that reaches the inner sanctum. You can pour as much enzyme solution as you want on your carpet, it just sinks in like the dog pee did. True, it may not smell anymore, but I know it never truly goes away. Dogs can still smell it.

Grossed out now? On top of the filth factor, it strikes me as really awful that now I have to throw this ENORMOUS roll of synthetic disgusting mess in the land fill. I know that synthetics have revolutionized our lives, but maybe it would have been better if all wall to wall had continued to be made out of wool. I didn't choose to install the carpet in the first place, so I shouldn't feel guilty, but I do.

The lesson? Make time to paint the walls. Make time to rip up the carpet. Cause lord knows no one is going to make time for you to do these things. Also? Maybe wall to wall is a health hazard. Can you imagine what would happen if oil supplies really did just suddenly dry up and none of us had solar panels installed against this bleak possibility and we couldn't run our vacuums? People with area rugs would simply take them outside and beat the crap out of them to remove the dust and other debris, but for those with wall to wall? Oh my god. The thought boggles the mind and impresses the fear glands.



*Alright, she's not evil. There are people I adore who don't like chickens. But none of them would have tried to use their newlywed status as a reason why chicken noise is intolerable (it's not "romantic" don't you know). Oh yes, let me get rid of my beloved family pets who make noise for twenty minutes between 1 and 2 pm because that's when you crazy newlyweds would like to have sex and it just isn't working with the noise of those damn chickens which makes things go limp. Jesus.