So back onto Mission: Turning My House Into A Home II, I went and bought half a coffee table yesterday.
Half. I only own two legs.
(Well not entirely true – for it is a glass sensation! it's just a piece of bent glass basically. The top merges into a 90 degreed extended version of itself, hence no legs. Amazing. And to make the whole deal shweeter – it wasn't that expensive. In fact, rather flippen reasonable. Art I tell you.)
See? Am I not Miss Sensationally Sensible or what? I only bought half. AND I only get it at end August.
So I'm at Design Quarter for lunch with a male colleague, and:
Peas: 'Dude, that rug! Oh my aching testicle, I want, I have to have, I will probably [even think about] selling my body for that rug. In fact, is it even a rug – it looks more like Heaven to me.'
See, this is how I see it. A shag rug is not only called a shag rug because it's all furry and shit. It's a shag rug because you will have a 10 out of 10 shag on this baby. It's better than a Queensize. It's what lovemaking dreams are made of.
The thing looks like a slice of driven fucking snow. It's a systematic slice of Austrian outback.
It looks like powdery snowflakes that have all landed in a square shape. I dropped an ovary on ogling at this fine creation, and emitted much purring vernacular.
The one drawback? (Because the size was perfect too). It was white. It was a large, beautiful rug of Stain Magnetism.
That would set me back almost three grand.
That ching of the till might make me panic.
So I asked my mate: 'What do you reckon about this rug?'
'Dude, kiff rug. But let's assess this: you're gonna have to change your lifestyle. Someone will drop red wine on it, and suddenly the party will be over. And it'll be all, 'OK kids, party's over, WHO JUST SPILLED WINE ON MY THREE GRAND WHITE RUG? And then no one will ever come round again.'
He had a point, of course. Basically the rug will put a handbrake on my life. But I wouldn't need to buy the rug nappies or formula, would I? Would. I.
'Aw come on. Couldn't I position the rug in such a fashion that it would be mostly covered by the coffee table, so people wouldn't spill on it?'
Him: 'No. Because there is that moment before the wine hits the lips where most people spill or at least dribble it down their fronts.'
Someone I know bought a white winter coat at Top Shop for 80 quid a few years ago. The coat meant she couldn't eat for the rest of the month basically. But because it was her dream coat, she had to wear it everywhere, where it probably should've been kept for drinks in Knightsbridge. And in London, you don't wanna wear a white coat on the tube or on buses or in drinking holes.
But she did, she pursued and went forth in her orgasmic white winter accessory.
To find, after a night out at The Puzzle or such, a giant bootmark had left itself square in the middle of the back, and an artistic spray of Snakebite all over the collar and hem. Alas, she still had to wear the coat for an entire season.
Now yes, this is a similar situation. But, it's not like I'm going to be taking the rug out for a night on the town with me. It's not going to the Manwhore, and it's not travelling on trains with me.
However, I might have to roll it up when people come over for a few shnafties. That's a definite handbrake.
Now the sensible part of me reckons to get the boring red/muted colour rug from Boardmans. It's nice, it's a nice rug. I guess. I mean there's nothing wrong with it. But Jesus the Rockstar part of me is saying 'get the fucking cream rug, one day you'll shag on it and it's gonna feel good.'
The dilemma. Cream rug or red/muted rug?
PS: Another issue with the red is that it doesn't come all fluffy-like. Might as well shag on the bed.