Elegy on a carpet

 

I’ll admit I’m not the best man at do-it-yourself type work at home. Be it woodworking, painting, plumbing or electrical work. I always seem to get it wrong and more often than not I hurt myself.

For example this morning when I hammered hard on my finger, missing the nail altogether, my first instinct was not to say calmly and in a quiet voice “Jolly gosh, this was a tad uncomfortable for me!!!”

I threw the hammer in the air in pain followed by a string of un-repeatables unworthy to be repeated here.

The hammer struck the beautiful crystal vase of flowers which we’d treasured for years as a special present from the in-laws. The vase shattered into a million pieces pouring water everywhere which caused an electrical short circuit which blew the TV into a loud bang and sparks.

And my finger still hurt.

“That was a wedding present from …” she said crying.

“I know … I know …” I thought silently. I never liked the thing anyway, but I’d better say nothing and pretend I’m more hurt than I really am.

It did not work. The deceased vase got more sympathy than me.

Better get on with my work. After all, laying a carpet in a room is easy. Take out all the furniture. Well … most of the furniture anyway. Why bother with the coffee table, the TV and so on. 

 

Let’s measure from here to there, and from there to over here. Match the measurements to the carpet. Lay the carpet. No … wait. Fix that loose floorboard first. Hammer the nail in. Miss it altogether. Hit your finger hard and we’re back to where we started.

An hour or so later I managed to lay the carpet in the room. There were areas where the carpet was somehow bigger than the room. Don’t know why. Maybe the carpet stretched as it was laid down and grew bigger and curled up a little up the wall. Never mind. It’ll be hidden when I put the furniture there and no one will notice.

And in some places the carpet did not quite reach the wall. It was a few inches short. Perhaps it shrunk a little over here whilst it stretched over there. What if I move more furniture over here to hide it?

Wait a minute. What’s this lump here in the middle of the room? It looks like a small mound a few inches high. It doesn’t move much and it feels as if there’s something under the carpet.

I can’t take the whole carpet off and start again. Dash it all. Where’s that hammer? I’ll bash that mound hard and flatten what’s under there … ah … that should do it!!!

 

As I finished flattening the carpet with the hammer I heard a young voice from the kitchen ask “Mom,  have you seen my hamster? He’s not in his cage!”

“Dear Lord,” What do I do now? Put those flowers from the broken vase where the mound was and say a prayer?

Better say nothing. Perhaps they’ll think the hamster went out for a walk. It’s a nice day out there and Dodo will enjoy the sunshine.

Appropriate name … I thought. This particular hamster is now as extinct as his namesake. I hope he doesn’t stink under there as he decomposes away!!!

I shudder away the dark thoughts as I move the furniture back into the room nonchalantly as if nothing happened. If I confess I’ll open up a new can of worms and tears will flow for ever more and I’ll never be forgiven by anyone for eternity for what I have done.

It is sometimes kinder and much more loving to ease away the pain of others by not telling them what they don’t need to know. Better to believe that Dodo has gone for a walk and met a Miss Dodo and they’re living happily ever after in the fields behind our house.

Just as I finished putting the furniture back I heard that young voice say “Mom, I found Dodo. He was under the bed.”

Now then … has anyone seen my brand new cell-phone? I can’t find it anywhere!