Floored

Last weekend we had fun going to a tree farm for the first time and harvesting our own tree.

This weekend, not so much!

We spent the day Saturday cleaning and cleaning and cleaning, trying to crawl out from under all the Christmas boxes, laundry and toys that had built up over the past week.  We got all the decorations up, organized the toys in the office, and I started vacuuming before I took a shower and got ready for Marvin's work Christmas party that night.

At first, I thought my vacuum bag was full, because our normally dirt-thirsty sweeper was declining the offering of Christmas tree needles on our carpet.  After changing the bag and going over the area several more times, I got down on my knees to investigate.

The tree we chose had extremely sharp, stiff needles but we picked it anyways 'cause it was purdy (big mistake, won't do that again).  Those sharp, stiff needles were now imbeded, parallel to the floor, in every loop of our berber-style area rug!

I spent nearly half an hour yanking them out one by one like so many splinters out of a finger.  I begged and pleaded with Marvin to help me just roll up the rug until after Christmas so it wouldn't get worse, but he wouldn't have any part of it.  He tells me that he hates the way the room looks without a rug, and ignores me when I say I'll hate the way the room looks with a permanently prickly, pine needle carpet. Then he promises to pick needles each night after work. Ha!  I say.

He says give it till Wednesday and if the tree is dropping more needles and the carpet is getting worse then we'll roll it up.

Don't think it didn't cross my mind to give that awful tree a good shake or two each day while he's at work between now and Wednesday!

But wait, there's more...

Today, we left for church in a bit of a hurry, and I forgot about my very full bowl of purple, blueberry oatmeal sitting on the table.  Our dog has become slightly aggressive in her older age about scanning for table scraps under and on the table.  Not thinking that she'd go for blueberry oatmeal, I dismissed the thought that suddenly occured to me during the service.

When we got home, I passed the kitchen and mumbled "dang, the kids were messy this morning, look at the floor" under my breath. Then I suddenly turned and did a double take, when I realized that the mess I was looking at would have taken thirty toddlers to accomplish.

Upon further inspection, I noticed my no longer full oatmeal bowl sitting upside down and broken under the table.  My black and white tile floor was now beautiful swirls of purple and beige, thanks to the long, rough tongue of our German Shepherd.

Anyone ever tried to wash an oatmeal bowl that sat all day on the counter?  Uh-huh.  Try cleaning hardened oatmeal film off of a floor.  I mopped as best I could, but what I need now is one of those steam mops to dissolve the THOUSANDS OF LITTLE SPECKS OF PURPLEN-ESS that are all over the tile.

Maybe while I'm shaking the tree, I'll shake the dog, too!