I have new, wall-to-wall carpet. It’s an off-white, golden hued Berber. It fits, as you can see, with all of my colors.
Ironically, I picked it in a flash, after procrastinating and dithering for 12 to 14 years about getting rid of a greyish-white carpet which was supposed to be super-easy to keep clean, but proved to attract stains like iron filings on a magnet. I hated the carpet from the moment it was laid. The grey-tinged color clashed with my golds, oranges and warm, pale-pale lavenders. I hated that carpet even more when strains returned time and again no matter how expert (read “costly”) the carpet cleaners were, nor how often they came.
I equally hated trying to decide between woods and carpets, between colors and textures, between…everything! And, I hated the thought of moving stuff for wood/carpet to be laid, especially under the bed, where I ran out of space more than a decade ago and have long since forgotten what I’ve stored there.
The solution turned out to be simple.
- My neighbor, Vern, wrote down the names and numbers of two competing flooring companies that bring their samples to you. I called and made appointments. My goal merely was to see what was available and how much it would cost.
- The first salesman arrived. Vern and I studied what he had. I didn’t like anything. I couldn’t afford wood-like floors if I wanted to have $ for traveling next year. Carpets were too expensive, too.
- I forgot to cancel the second salesman. He arrived and his samples included the carpet I liked. Vern approved. The price was 1/3rd less than the first and affordable. I signed the agreement.
- Over lunch, I told a NG photographer friend that I finally decided on carpet because I couldn’t find a wood color. “Ebony,” he said. Ohhhhh…he was right. I could picture it — so chic, so modern, so expensive…but I could save money, but the carpetmen were arriving the next day, but…could I cancel?
- Vern said: “You’ll like the carpet. Relax.”
- Meanwhile, I’d followed the Talane Coaching advice, and hired someone to help me empty drawers, bookshelves, etc. for the carpetmen to work. We paid attention to where we put things, and by 5 p.m., everything was back in place.
- I got a 40-minute neck massage at Union Station and returned home, where I left my shoes in the hallway and walked around on my new carpet barefooted and content.
- When I sent the pic today to my friend, Simon, the decorator who now is living in Chile, he emailed back: “Don’t drink red wine.”