I have a love/hate relationship with carpet.
I love how it looks (when it's clean), I love the feel of it on my bare feet (I have a No Shoe Rule in my house), I love how my feet aren't shocked by the cold when I step on the floor in the winter (I hate wearing slippers).
I hate the thought of what is hiding deep down in some carpet (creepy crawlies, anyone?), I hate seeing dirty carpet (ew), I hate that filthy carpet is an asthma trigger (I have a child who has had severe asthma attacks from sitting on someone's carpet), I hate that no matter how much you vacuum there is still dirt in the underpad that you can't reach with a vacuum (even a super clean home has dirt flying out of the carpet when you pull it up).
Because of my love/hate of carpets, I am obsessed with vacuuming & shampooing them. You can have the most clean, dust free, tidy home but that 1 tiny little mark on your carpet will make it look gross.
A few years ago my carpet shampooer died. After so much use, I was surprised it lasted as long as it did. I spent the last few years renting a Rug Doctor. Constantly. I finally got a new carpet shampooer this summer. It lasted a few times & then it died. Sad me. I mourned. I cried.
Then the company gave me a brand-new one at no cost. Whoo hoo! Happy me. No more mourning. No more crying.
The day that sucker was dropped off by UPS, the living room carpet got a bath. I was so excited. I know, I have issues when cleaning machines & using them makes me the happiest woman alive. Sparkly things work too.
After taking time to admire my beautiful carpet, I decided I better do something with that box sitting in the middle of the kitchen. The box the shampooer came out of, that was quickly abandoned in my excitement to play with my new toy.
|Innocent box, right?|
I noticed a piece of paper next to the box. I bent over to pick it up...
|...and saw this.|
After I screamed...because who doesn't scream when they see a face looking at them from what is presumed to be an empty box...I sat down to regain my composure.
|"Hey, woman, whatcha|
|"Put that camera down & get me out|
of this prison."
|"I said put that camera|
down! Give it to me."
|"Hey! I know you can see me."|
The box flaps had fallen closed after him, perfectly concealing Fat Cat in the Box. He must have worked pretty hard to lift those flaps & jump his fat ass into that box without toppling it over. Unfortunately for him, he was at my mercy when he wasn't tall enough to open those flaps back up & get out.
Oh, Watson, always keepin' me on my toes.