I am all for pulling up carpets wherever I find them and have done it throughout most of the house, but we still have carpet in the basement and in our upstairs bedroom. Neither area has flooring underneath the carpet that's worth a damn (I've checked), so for now there is a sort of oatmeal color downstairs and a very sad mint green upstairs that I successfully manage to ignore most of the time. But in an effort to improve our living environment, I rug-doctored last night and this morning before work. It was about as gross as you might expect. If you've never rented a carpet cleaner before, you haven't had the joy of seeing the cleaning water get sucked up into a reservoir tank, all filthy and silty after passing through the grody fibers of your carpet. I also extracted a pound of cat hair. I'm thinking of just building a second cat with it, one that sleeps quietly at the foot of the bed until we're ready to wake up for the day.
There has been a bit of spring cleaning urge in me for the past week. (If you like, you may read "spring cleaning" as "tax prep procrastination," and you would not be too far off.) I spent much of the weekend indulging it. But I did take one break to meet up with my friend Wendell at IKEA. That was nice and everything, but the big bonus is that she had her cousins Big W and Miss Lippy in tow, so we made each other's acquaintance in the meat world, and ate snacks and faffed about the marketplace for a good stretch. They are all as rad in person as you might expect from reading their screeds. (I already knew this about Wendell.) Plus, I got a sweet knife block from the outing.
Like I said before: the rest of you bloggers need to come to Minneapolis and holler at me.
Tonight I think I'll adjust my bike so that I can ride it for reals. Tomorrow should be plenty warm for riding (if you think 30 F in the morning is warm), and the alternatives have been making me crazy. I suspect that these first few rides are going to a) be hard and b) make me rethink my bob. My bangs are finally long enough to tuck behind my ear, but the Brit keeps telling me I look like Peter Tork (bless him).
Unrelated: think of some topics about which you'd like to hear the Brit hold forth. I keep threatening to make a jar full of topics for him to pick randomly and then extemporize a mini-podcast. We're both good at thinking up things to do but not actually doing them. Help me.