THE COUCH TRIP

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Oh, you women are crafty. Crafty, indeed.

Yes, I got played. Played like a dime store guitar. And it was one of the typical bait and switch tactics women have used for years to make men look like the boneheads we are.

For months all I heard from my wife was, "We need new carpet. We need new carpet." Everywhere I’d turn. "We need new carpet." Here is an actual transcript of a recent conversation:

ME: What do you want to do for dinner?

HER: We need new carpet.

ME: Ohmigod! The dog’s on fire!

HER: We need new carpet.

And so it went, until I finally relented and went carpet shopping. We went to the same folks who installed our kitchen floor (back in the "We need new tile" era). The woman who had helped us with the kitchen purchase was eager to help us again, probably because she knew that I would agree to buy anything just to get out of there. "Carpet made from the hair of William Shatner? Sure, we’ll take it. Let’s go, honey."

The first error on my part was, I believe, when I opened my mouth. The first thing I said to the salesperson was, "I guess we’d like to get something similar to our current carpet, which is a light tan."

Then I could feel it. The shameful, almost embarrassed stare from a wife who let her color-challenged husband comment on things. It reminded her of the time her husband gave directions to the house ("It’s the gray house on the left") and she had to jump in and explain that, in actuality, the house is tan, and that Mike has been in the cough syrup again.

So I can’t distinguish colors. Sue me. At that point, I decided I would simply be the silent investor. I would be there, checkbook ready, and stay out of any color decisions. It’s weird, though. Even though she knows I have no color sense, she has no problem asking me, "Do you prefer the Summer Wheat or the Cascade Tan." I think she does it just to mess with my head.

Eventually, we (she) settled on a carpet color. We got our estimate and we were steamrolling towards new carpet, when the game began. "You know," she said one night over dinner, "if we were to get new couches instead of carpet, I don’t think we’d notice the spot on the carpet where it looks like the dogs dissected a mongoose."

"New couches?" I asked. This was coming out of left field. After all, what was wrong with our couches? These were my couches from my bachelor days! They had permanent impressions of the rears of me and my friends, and each cushion had a distinctive flavor of beer spilled on. These couches were vintage!

"Sure," she said. "If we were to get new couches, and throw in a new bed, I think the house would improve dramatically. Plus, it would be a lot cheaper than carpet."

Of course, trying to be Mr. Grown-Up Responsible Husband, the main word I heard there was CHEAPER. I sat there for a minute, reviewing the previous conversation: "CHEAPER. CHEAPER. CHEAPER."

"Sounds like a plan, honey! Couches would be great! And the bed, too! And not just because it’s CHEAPER."

Call me cynical, but I think my wife wanted couches all along. She never wanted new carpet. For all I know, we may not even have carpet. (I often zone out when at home.) I think the whole ritual was an effort to get new couches because -- brace yourself, this is a doozy -- she didn’t like sitting in the cushion impressions of my beer-drinking buddies’ rears.

We’ve got new couches now, and they are maroon, I think. With some gold on them, maybe? Again, not real observant. It doesn’t really matter to me, since the one concession I did get was to keep my old recliner in the living room.

We’ve also got a new bed, which is larger than our old one. This means that our Basset hound Maggie has even more room to stretch out at night. My wife and I have no additional room. It was been forfeited to Maggie.

I have a feeling that Gibbons Renovation ’99 has not ended, however. I may have gotten duped about the couches, but I think the game goes on. And I’m helpless to do anything about it. I have a sneaking suspicion I’ll soon me writing a check for that carpet.

E-mail your pledges for the Gibbons Renovation ’99 Carpet Fund to mwg1234@yahoo.com.