A side effect of moving house has been a sudden surge of house proudness. The rug with the burn mark will not do for my new abode. I want a new one. But which one? I yearn for the day where you would just go to your local rug makers and choose the one you were least offended by from the small selection on offer. Now I have the internet I can look at a million different rugs.
In the face of such a range how is one supposed to settle on the perfect rug for this room? My other half doesn’t care about rugs. Then again, when he was faced with a myriad of choices of new TV, I didn’t care enough to help him make a choice either – it’s just a telly/rug – depending on which side if the soft furnishing vs technology debate you are on.
Then again, when in the midst of rug overload, an overheard sentence, on the telly or the radio, caught my ear.
‘What is the point of life?’
To which my answer was an off-hand ‘there is no point’. And then I started thinking about it more. If there is no point it doesn’t matter which effing rug I buy does it. It’s just a pointless rug in the midst of a pointless existence. OR conversely, if there is no overriding big point to life, maybe the small things, like having the right rug ARE the point. The right rug could be the thing on which the very sum happiness of my life pivots.
Then later, watching the news, I remember I live in a world where people’s lives are so desperately shit that they are prepared to risk death on terrifyingly rickety and overcrowded boats to have a chance to live in a bit of the world where your biggest issue of the day is which rug to buy as opposed to will we eat/get shot/be imprisoned for our beliefs.
Makes my rug concerns look very pissing self-indulgent and utterly irrelevant in the scheme of things. So yeah. I haven’t bought a rug. It has become too bigger philosophical issue for me to even consider browsing them any more.
Tell me, is it just me who can turn a simple task into an internal debate on the fundamental meaning of life and the very inequality of existence? I mean, the only reason I need a rug is to soak up the wine we will inevitably spill on the floor, and if I wasn’t such an over thinker I probably wouldn’t need the wine right?! Maybe they should invent disposable rugs, like giant kitchen towels that you just throw away every time you have a spillage? Or maybe I should just learn to hold my glass more tightly…
Love Miss Cisco XXX