It’s lived past its expiration date by months, years even. It started out as a hand me down from generous relatives, but turned into a hassle, a source of frustration. Who knew an oriental rug could be so infuriating?
And I’m not talking about the fringe. Sure, keeping fringe neat is a thankless job and one I abandoned in practice years ago. In spirit, I never had it in me to devote myself to combing out something that stubbornly refuses to stay straight, twisting and gnarling with the slightest touch. Enough of that.
No, what bothers me about the living room carpet is its ability to swallow any object that falls onto it. I’m not kidding. Socks, dog toys, sneakers. They drop, I scan, nada. With my low vision, it’s highly unlikely I will spot the fallen comrade in the forest of threads. The woven pattern is filled with so many colors and shapes it’s like household object camo, things disappear when they stop moving. Until my foot finds them as I walk around and half-trip, toe stub!
My favorite location method, devised one day when I smelled a dog turd but couldn’t find it, is simple–I fall to the floor, crane my head to the side and scan the carpet like I’m looking at a city horizon for the tallest building. Eventually, crawling around on the floor will produce the object I’m seeking. But any item, like the carpet, that insists I bow to it will create its own death sentence in that moment, too.
I yearn for wide stripes or a few blocks of contrasted hues for the rug. Not this jungle of color and pattern and complexity that rests before me. I gaze at the carpet. It mocks me, daring me to find the dog ‘s red rope lobster, an exercise in futility.
And it’s not just me. Even Stockton has moments of frustration, losing an occasional small object to the beast that is our living room rug despite his–yeah I’m jealous–20/10 vision.
Recently, after a bout of search and rescue, he looked up at me and said, “I think we should get a new rug.” Music to my ears. Don’t have to tell me twice. Coming soon to Mayberry: a new rug.
Adventures in Low Vision 
Lol. Love this post! I bought a box of latex gloves for those, there’s-a-turd-SOMEWHERE-around here-moments. Somehow it’s not quite as mortifying with that latex barrier when my hands are doing the job of my eyes.
Latex saves us!
LOL!! Funny post! I never thought about how a patterned rug could swallow things up. We experience the turd left in a random place once awhile (How does that even happen?) and having a patterned rug would make that experience so much worse!
Thanks, Trisha!
Rug + a mystery turd = shaking my head.
Oh, I do sympathise. Have just found a pop sock hiding in the hall rug!
Thanks, Bridget! These rugs are devils.
Not a good combination!
Hee hee, I’m a floor crawler too, craning my head exactly the same way! Although only in the privacy of home or loved ones’ houses. If I drop something when I’m out, I’m yet to drop to my knees to do the same technique and rely on patience (a little), foot sweeping and help from others. Thankfully my dog doesn’t leave doggy do gifts, but dropped earrings, pens, kitchen utensils etc. If my floor crawling fails, my husband knows when I say his name in a particular tone that I’ve lost something and he comes to save the day! This is such great writing!
Thanks Lucent, grin. Whatever works, right? Husbands are great savers of sanity sometimes, too.