The worms have been eradicated and the house is bug-free again.* But the guest room floor is also bare, and that, more than anything else, calls to mind one of my life's minor tragedies: The loss of my grandparents' Beni Ourain rug.
Here's a very similar vintage one that costs, oh, about $4000+ CAD.
The truth is that it was promised to me several times over the years, as were various other small things that I, as a design-lover, seemed to appreciate more than others in the family, but I never received it. This happens and it's no one's fault. Moving is chaotic, people get old, personalities clash, and plans fall apart. Inheritances are weird and shit happens. I don't think anyone swiped it from me. I just feel bummed about it, you know? I should have explained that it was valuable, at the very least because I'm pretty sure it ended up in the garbage, which is wrong wrong wrong. Depressingly wrong.
Anyway. I really miss that rug. All it needed was a good cleaning. :(
Now, let's twist the knife a little bit and take a look at how a Beni Ourain rug looks in context. (Hint: They look damn good.)
* Until the centipedes come, of course. I can hardly WAIT until the warm weather. Real spring! Hooray for old Toronto houses and their summertime crawlies! Yayayaya! I love it! By which I mean I hate and despise it. Centipedes are the effing worst. Disgusting.
** It doesn't hurt that much. I mean, my life is pretty good. This is a very privileged complaint, and I definitely know it. I'm just being hyperbolical, as is my wont.