Wednesday, March 28, 2012

The game is underfoot

So I'm out at the big-box store looking for a rug for my new office (because making plans for my new office distracts me from my distress over losing my old office) and my heart isn't really in it because all the affordable rugs look pretty similar--same range of geometric shapes, same range of colors--but I manage to narrow it down to three rugs that would suit just fine and then I have to decide: the vaguely Frank Lloyd Wright stained-glass pattern, the swoopy curvy colorful shapes, or the muted misshapen checks. Not one of them really makes me stand up and sing, but singing isn't really part of my office repertoire. All I need is something to walk all over and all three are within the right price range, so how do I pick? Draw straws? Throw dice? I don't know how to play rock/paper/scissors with a rug.

Then my eyes land on the names of the rugs. All these patterns have names, of course, not Fred and Norm and Valerie but names reminiscent of apartment complexes: Green Leaf, Winchester, Halsey Court, Fireside. The names of two of the finalists are so generic I've already forgotten them, but the third stands out:


How could an English professor say no to a rug called Scrabble?

Come summertime, this rug is MINE! 

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