carpet cleaners (vacation day 4)

So, the carpet cleaners finally DID show up this morning...after me spending all week with my furniture upside-down, they came at 8:30 this morning.

The knock on the door woke me up. I had, once again, spent the night on my couch. But for some reason I couldn't get to sleep last night -- actually, the reason was that I went to the library and brought home a book that I started last night and haven't been able to put down -- so I decided to just stay up and watch the morning news that I am taking a week off from producing. That was like an out-of-body experience, and I kept calling shots to no one, just shouting them at the TV like our director Kim would be able to hear me across the river. I have a hard time watching our news when I'm at home sometimes because I start doing stuff like that.

Anyway, after the news was over, I read a little more and then eventually fell asleep, and then the knock on the door woke me up.

Crap, I thought, realizing I was a grungy mess. But I also was too sleepy to care if these guys judged me for my greasy hair, nasty breath, scrubby clothes, or very un-made-up face that definitely was showing some blemishes. I let the two guys in and moved the last couple of things out of the way, including my desk chair, which I rolled onto the kitchen floor and sat in with book in hand, thankful I'd have something to keep me occupied while the carpet guys were busy cleaning.

One guy was older, probably in his 40s or 50s, and the other was around my age, probably a little younger than me. They were both really nice, and made small talk with me over the roar of the carpet cleaning machines. The younger one observed that he could usually get an idea of what people were like based on what the inside of their homes looked like, and that he could tell I was "pretty laid back." The older guy asked me about my piano, saying he knew a lady who played organ at church and that when he went over to clean her house, he would always ask her to play for him. I wished with all my might that he would NOT request a tune from me, and thankfully he didn't. Which is good, because I honestly couldn't just sit down and play anything except chopsticks without putting someone through a very painful musical experience. I just don't play like that anymore -- strictly note-plunking for vocal purposes. When people ask me to play, I always feel like Kiera Knightley in Pride and Prejudice. Only worse.

The carpet dudes finish pretty quickly (not like I have just acres and acres of carpet floors, you know) and they wish me a happy holiday and disappear out into the hallway just as quickly as they came. I locate my slippers and gingerly make my way across the carpet back to the couch, my little island of living space while I wait for the floors to dry. No sooner do I crack open my book and find where I left off than I hear another knock on my door.

I get up and answer it. It's the younger of the two carpet guys, asking if they left a bucket in my apartment. I do a quick check around the apartment and then return to the door to tell him I didn't see anything. THEN he tells me the real reason he came back was because he wanted to ask me out on a date.

G-uh...what?!

I explain to him that I'm not really dating right now, which is true, but he takes it as a cop-out answer that he nevertheless accepts, wishes me a nice day, and leaves.

Aww geez. Seriously? I'm so glad I'm not a guy. I cringe at the ribbing he's probably going to get from his work partner when he catches up with him at the next apartment. You have to hand it to him for having guts, though.

So there you have it. I got asked out by the carpet guy. I'm so glad this 4-day-delayed carpet cleaning at least turned out to be the makings of a good story!

I'm going to bed.