SECOND TO Last Friday of Winter -- With Cold Comes Need for Rugs

Someone finally stole the red carpet off my porch.

It had been hanging on the porch banister since i moved back in January, first to air out a bit. Later, when we launched into scraping the lead paint off of the windows and floorboards of the front and dining rooms, i left it out there to protect it from the layers of toxic dust that settled upon everything after pushing past the floor-to-ceiling makeshift wall of plastic that we built and worked within, decked in rebreathers, industrial goggles, hats, and heavy gloves, and clothes we threw immediately in the washer after finishing our day. (As a side, i had always thought "the death room" as we affectionately referred to it, would make an absolutely fabulous rave site. Everyone decked out in their radiation jumpsuits and protective wear so that only eyes could be seen. All the peoples getting down amidst the tools and dust and, uh, lumber. Preeeow!)

Anyway, on Monday, i noticed that the carpet was gone. A cold front settled in that day, and i had just dragging myself and my new winter weather-inspired doozy of a cold down the blocks away from campus and spirit-sucking work towards bed well before the 5:00 bell. Climbing the four short steps up the porch, my pressure-laden eyes focused through the banister to the street. After a moment, i realized something was strange about this. Another second had my head nodding. The awkward patch of heavy red fabric that traditionally blocked my view was now missing. My carpet. Gone. From my porch. Taken by someone. A stealer of porch things. It's true.

Just Saturday, i had thought about bringing it in. Upon orders of The Union of the Snake (all hail), we've been on scraping haitus for the past week. "But Scraping II: No Walls To Stop Us Now!" was set to begin again this week, so i decided against it, and left the thing there. That was the last time i remember glancing uncaringly past it.

Yeah. To be honest, a carpet hanging on a porch for months was probably pretty obnoxious -- akin, i guess, on some level to leaving your laundry hanging out on the line for weeks on end, or plopping your doorless car indefinitely on blocks in the front yard. It was a fine enough carpet, though, -- a sassy berried shade of red, nice textured weave. No atrocity in itself, visually. But i'm sure some neighbors weren't too fond of the color blocking it added to my entryway. "She's still got that carpet hanging out there," i imagine my frowny across-the-street not-new neighbor spitting to his wife as he pulls their station wagon out of their drive. "That eyesore! It's been there ever since she's returned. First the parties, then this." "Yes," she responds, all scrunchy-faced and tight-bunned. "Such a blight upon our trim neighborhood. Wait -- i know! Let's have our awkward, somber-looking teenaged son dress in black and steal it off of her porch in the dead of night! We can use it in the basement!" Then they look at each other in a moment of epiphany and orgasmic rapture, stop the car, and make out gropingly.

Gross. Sorry.

While the thought of irritating others around me with my aesthetic faux pas doesn't bother me too very much (um, unless i think of things like that), i can understand it.

So, now it's gone. One less toxic dust-free red carpet in my life.

i had no plans for that rug yet in the house -- no place i was looking forward to stepping or laying upon it. My house is in limbo, with no end point in site for this naive little wander into "home improvement," which, for good or for naught, negates most abilities to have deigns for one lonely lovely-ish rug in the grand setup of things. It's not alone; many nice, small things are being ignored while attention is being sucked up by this mighty to-do (and being thrown frantically out into the world of free movement and unplannedness when a reprieve is called).

It's probably in a better place now, bringing color and warmth to a floor of some room in a house of more intentional and orderly thieves.

To you, red carpet, wherever you are. Fond wishes for a more appreciative spring.