Red Carpet

Okay, many months ago a tragic thing happened in our house and I feel I am finally able to write about it. The thing that happened is that my husband made a major decision – without me. Seems like nothing right? But, had he waited to ask my opinion, we would have never had red dyed carpet in our living room. This is a tale that will go down in infamy within the circle of our friends and family so I thought I should tell the story myself to avoid any confusion.

First of all, this is the not the first “not-so-great” idea my husband has had. Nor is it the first ridiculous thing he has done – he once got dressed in the dark and wore my jeans that had zippers and bows at the ankles to his job at a manufacturing plant. The truth is, Tony likes to take shortcuts, cut corners, leave out an “unnecessary” nail or two, skip reading the instructions and so forth. Also, because we are husband and wife, we rarely remember things happening the same way. Just ask about where our first kiss was or who blew out the side of our daughter’s 4th birthday Barbie cake – the answers will not be the same. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a great man. He works hard, he’s thoughtful (he even opens my garage door for me when he knows I’ll be home soon), he’s a great father and swears he’s liked more by women because he’s “smart & funny” than because he’s got a cute kadookis. (That’s a tonyism word – he makes up quite a few of those). Anyway, we’re talking about red carpet right?

So last fall, I was rushing home from work to deliver money to the football field for our daughter’s cheerleading pictures when I got my first clue that something was amiss. Our son Chase was playing in the driveway. Upon my arrival, he retrieved something from the house for me and asked me if I didn’t want to come inside? I didn’t have time. Then, with hands on my car door, chin poking ever so slightly in the window, he insisted that I really should come inside. He looked really worried.

As I entered the house, I could hear the carpet shampooer in the living room. I walked through the dining room and realized there was this strange red spray, almost a mist, on the dining room floor. And red footprints on the dining room area rug. That’s when things went into a sort of slow motion, if you’ve ever hit a deer with your car, you know what I mean. As I reached the end of the 6 ft. wide hallway to the living room, I realized that the floor was red. All of it. A blotchy, spattery red – like you would see in perhaps a slaughterhouse. That same red was misted up on the walls….and it wasn’t just the hall….it went all the way into the living room. That’s when the shampooer stopped and my husband’s face popped out from the living room. He was explaining something about being tired of shampooing our old white carpet, the colors of dye available at the local grocery store, red being a nice color….blah blah blah. He was starting to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher. I sat down at the dining room table, which happened to be direct seating for the show that was playing. Our conversation at that point was fairly brief, more of a “just-gettin-the-facts” kinda thing.

The rest of the evening went quickly, I drove to the football field, cried while explaining the situation to my neighbor and my daughter’s cheer coach, came home, had a short argument about the carpet. There wasn’t much to say. How could you think dyeing 600 square feet of carpet red was a good idea? What’s done was done. I was pissed, everyone’s socks were pink and that was how life was. I refused to go into the living room, not to be bitchy but just because I couldn’t.

Here’s the best part, that night was the Midget football team’s parents night out. Great – I’m pissed at him and I have to go out on a date-night with him. Lovely. AND a babysitter will be sitting in my red-dyed living room all evening. Wonderful. We arrive at the party, people are happy to see us, we plaster on fake smiles, get a drink and sit at an empty table. We don’t speak to each other. I’m thinking “this is how the whole night is going to be.” Funny thing is when you start to drink – you start to talk. And we did. Within a couple hours, everyone who had seated themselves at our table knew the carpet story…and was laughing about it. I was too – what else can you do? Drink and laugh about it!

The story just grew, I finally entered the living room to find he had shampooed AROUND the furniture, everyone who entered the house left with pink socks, we shampooed the carpet over and over. We had a Halloween costume party in our garage and people wanted to see the carpet, I would see people at events and they would let me know they had “heard” about the carpet (these are people who truly have empty lives so I know they need this), we learn the cost of replacing the carpet, the actual event of replacing the carpet….on and on and over time it’s become just what it is here. A story. I’m writing about it today because just the other night we joined some of Tony’s work friends for a drink and the red carpet was a major topic. It’s not a bad thing. We laugh about it because it was another thing that happened in our lives; no one got hurt and ultimately we got new carpet out of it!

Red Carpet


Joined November 2007

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Artist's Description

The day my husband dyed our carpet red….

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