Well, it's happened.
And, believe me, folks-
it takes every ounce of
Bad Girl in me to even
type the word-
but it's got to be said:
I've become a Carpet Bitch.
Maybe I should explain.
You know how-
when you get a new car-
you really don't want anyone
touching it with
their greasy fingerprints,
or smoking around it,
or driving it-
and you just keep peeking out
the window to look at it
and admire it
and are in awe that
it's really yours.
Well, same goes for new carpet.
I don't even want to
put my furniture back.
I just want to lie down
and nap where the table used to be-
or pick an empty spot
in the living room and
stretch out with a book-
and hang only one sweater
and two t-shirts and
three pairs of jeans in the closet.
I'm having a problem,though.
My family actually wants to
walk on it!
No food, drink, or shoes
is my new rule.
And they reacted as if I've
asked them to take off their clothes
or something!
(Which I did, but they didn't go for that...)
So- my dear sister-in-law,Dixie-
I realize where you were
coming from all those years that
we had to remove our shoes at the door
for the Crawford Christmas parties.
I didn't realize then that you were
a carpet bitch, too.
And that we just can't help ourselves.
We are good people.
We really are.
Aren't we?
"What do you think you're doing!" I screamed
at my daughter yesterday.
"Uh- blowing my nose. What's it look like?"
she answered, squinting her eyes in that
familiar You've Gone Crazy, Mom
kind of look.
"Oh, my gosh!" I say to her-
"Go in there on the tile
and do your business!
We can't have any stray boogers
on the new carpet!"
"Well, Mom, tell me this,"
she says sarcastically,
"Just how am I supposed to get
to the tile floor if I can't cross the carpet?"
She had a good point there.
Then, to make it worse,
my nine year old grand daughter -
(who is staying here temporarily)
(the whole tribe is staying here, really)-
is not allowed to have her dog
inside now.
She bawled her eyes out last night.
"I'll sleep in the garage with him!"
she slobbered, grabbing her pillow.
Those tears.
That pouty face.
That broken heart.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to cave in.
I wanted to say-
"Okay then, bring that pup in-
and lets just have a
nice little pee fest
and a greasy bone tangle
and a "I Think My Butt Has Worms Party"-
right there on my new carpet!"
Oh, mercy!
I AM a Carpet Bitch!
