Fueling Thoughts

I don't know how many enjoy watching those "oddly satisfying" category of clips where people wash carpets, where a grimy brown-black rectangle reemerges into its original bright colours with floral or geometric patterns. A practical example of resurgence and rebirth, though more likely it feeds the same voyeuristic mechanism that makes people watch Dr. Pimple Popper drain pus, extract giant blackheads, marvel at giant boogers, or savour the stench of a just coughed-out tonsil stone. Let me assure you, in reality, washing carpets is oddly dissatisfying. I found that out yesterday. I hauled out a mysterious, grey-tinged, cardboard-like carpet, long folded up, with no recollection of how it ever got into the house. My mother said it was natural wool and that my father had bought it while I was still in school. It took a boutique blend of cleaners and about four hours of pressure washing to restore it to its original white and cream. My back ached for the rest of the day, an...