The yards and yards of previously hideous never-cleaned bachelor pad carpet my beloved man had tolerated for five years, and my little dog just got real' real' sick on? It is now unrecognizable. It is, in short, carpet once again.
Seriously. Now... I won't lie... There are many reasons why I don't rush to have my mom come and visit, but way up there on the list was the fact that the carpet in this place was just utterly, totally and - I thought - irretrievably trashed. By time, food, cat puke, inattention and, more recently, my doggy with the tummy troubles (can you say EW?).
Enter, Dave of Superb Carpet and Upholstery Cleaning. I called the same morning my dog did the nasty on the living room floor (man says "WTF did you FEED him?"). Note to self: Don't feed the adult dog used to kibble a quarter cup of cooked meat.) Poor little dude.
But I digress... Dave answers phone. He says he can take care of me the same day since I'm local (my guess is he won't keep you waiting long no matter where you are - he's organized and he works quickly, but thoroughly). He calls 10 minutes before his one-hour arrival time window is up, says he's just leaving the other side of town and he's sorry. Sorry? No need - and he arrives on the jot of 2pm.
He surveys the damage. I look sheepish. Y'know, like you do when you're used to living on better than disgusting carpet and you have to account for your doggy's poop damage to a total stranger you're just SURE is judging your immortal soul.
Dave looks up brightly and says "Oh this is nothing - we'll have it looking way better."
BTW, Dave shows up chipper, well groomed, articulate and gracious - all stuff that is comforting when you're inviting a new service person into your hope (god I so sound like my mother right now...).
I disappear into a back bedroom that's not getting "Dave'd." Answer some emails, phone calls etc.. I pop out later and he's just finishing. I am... dumbfounded. I am, as they say in Yorkshire and the Midlands... gobsmacked.
The carpet is UN - F'riggin' - RECOGNIZABLE.
I could totally invite my mother for dinner now. I won't. But that's because I'm a horrible, cynical forty-something grown daughter who doesn't want to hear the comments about the ten foot wide television and the giant Deathstar that sits on top of it. Or the purple sheet I'm using to cover a window until I order those just-perfect little muslin curtains.
Yeah. We all live in environments less ideal than we'd like. May I suggest, in case yours features some scary-ass dirty carpet, you phone the very nice gentleman at Superb Carpet and Upholstery? Cause I so love our little place so much more now...
He is... Super Dave. read more