It’s better than it sounds.
What you can’t see about the carpet are the fact it’s over 20 years old, the ghosting, the spots, the fact that the back 4 feet of the room was laminate, and a bizarre spreading it-came-from-below shadow-stain near that armchair in the back right that always felt cool to the touch but never damp.
Our before, with the laminate already removed from where they GLUED IT TO THE SLAB SUBFLOOR:
See that weird triangleish piece at the bottom right? It looks like that because when the previous family moved out and took the fridge, they covered the ice maker line with a bag and hit the road. They did not TURN OFF the ice maker line, so it eventually leaked from the adjacent kitchen right before we moved in.
We pulled up the pad in an attempt to speed the drying and salvage the carpet…which worked (yay!) until the replacement pad roll we bought got flooded when the water heater gave out while we were 500 miles away one week (boo!).
If you’re doing the math, that was 3 years ago. We were too beaten down to try replacing it again.
Minus the carpet:
And a few hours later, with the new carpet:
Lula had to spend the duration of the install up in the bedroom, instead of her usual sequestration area (KK’s office, but KK was working there today). I took advantage of her ignorance to capture her first reaction to the new floor.
There’s no music, but if you turn it up, you can hear her shnuffling and scratching. I think she likes it.
I also made a quick recording of KK doing snow angels on the new carpet, but it’s not uploading for some reason. Here’s a still instead, post-rolling-around-on-the-new-floor.
Angel, the carpet installer, was amazing and a total pro. I assumed it would take two people to do the job, but he showed up alone this morning — a man, a van, a plan — and bent it to his/our will. He also had really excellent highlights. So basically, my hero.
The couch arrives Tuesday, and we’ll see if the curtains I picked out will work in there. I will be so happy to have it look like a room where people actually live that I may even start inviting in Deborah and Barbara, the Jehovah’s Witness ladies who stop by every month or so.
But maybe not. I had a few too many literary theory courses (1) to be able to discuss The Watchtower, or the Bible, in polite company.