On the Carpet

Marlou and I are now fighting over carpet.  And don't snigger.  Gilbert and Sullivan parted over an argument about a carpet in the Savoy Theatre.  Behind the carpet dispute, ours that is, lie many layers.  There's the issue of how much time we have to deal with this sort of thing.  I contend that we must act posthaste, getting the furniture moved, electronics unplugged and new carpets rolled and glued into place before cancer's witching hour.  Marlou is in no particular hurry.  She's not afraid that medical events will overtake us.  If I ever doubted this essential fact about her, the proof has been borne out over several months of carpet selection.  Patterns, colors, wools and acrylics, carpet-store boards and FedExed sample squares have been flowing in and out our front door with the tides.  Overnight guests have offered opinions.  At least one consultant has weighed in.  And in a strange reversal of roles, I suggested that we spring for the $16,000 brand, desperate to have the process concluded.  Marlou balked.  Which was fortunate.  Someone had to.  Remember, this is only an apartment -- and it's not ours.  We are tenants.

Which, one can remind oneself, is close to the life condition.  That's why the underlying issues in arguments these days seem particularly arbitrary.  Carpet is no life and death matter.  But decisions around it can be.  In fact, our lives are so completely out of control that interior decoration feels much like menu planning aboard the Titanic.  Not that anyone could foresee the iceberg.  Iceberg lettuce doubtless seemed a larger issue at the time.  So, why not select the perfect carpet hue, texture and blend?  There could be an earthquake tomorrow.  Someone could perform radical automotive surgery on my neck, using their bumper for anesthesia.  Anything can happen.

What's important, someone pointed out, is that carpet installation, and its timing, matter to Marlou.  Anyone who could endure several painful trips to our local carpet store and seriously consider the relative merits of 142,000 different samples, viewed in morning, midday and late-afternoon light -- well, they're really into this.

I care about Marlou getting tired and overextended, but her very passion for floor covering décor speaks a different truth.  Human energy is a funny thing.  We do what we care about.  And in extremis, this essential truth becomes even truer.  Carpet installation entails massive upheaval, of course.  Furniture and all household contents have to go.  It's clear the decks and find a motel room for several days.  Marlou knows this and is undaunted.  It is, at the end of our day of battle, a promising sign of health.  Marlou is even feeling optimistic about the pain-relieving effects of her imminent radiation.  What the hell.  Let the carpet roll.