I just shipped my Moroccan rug from NJ to Burbank. This image is not my rug—it's one I found on Google Images that looks like my rug. I can't take a picture of mine, since it's in a box somewhere with UPS.
My rug isn't valuable and it was not expensive, and its sentimental value is primarily in being reminded of the discomfort of once being a rookie traveler. But I want a rug for next to my bed, and my Burbank condo is taking on the look of mid-century minimalist Foreign Service officer back from abroad, so the rug would fit in nicely.
I bought this wool kilim for $70 in 1995 because that's what I had in my pocket when pal Steve B and I went to Marrakech and thought it would be fun to visit a carpet shop.
It wasn't fun. It was intimidating. This was my first exposure to the hard-sell, and it was on top of being aggressively harassed by touts—including robed and hooded men on Jawa motorcycles—for the first time. (Aside: Marrakesh is way easier now. Don't even worry about this anymore.)
I'm not intimidated by this kind of thing nowadays, and if I were, I couldn't travel the way I do. But the rug I ended up buying out of the weird sense of obligation that goes along with being a tourist in a shop of emotional manipulation experts is headed my way, so I can look at it every day and feel both inadequate and ridiculous every morning.
But here's the thing about this rug...it's kinda dirty. I took it out in my backyard in Jersey City over the weekend and swept it, but its colors are dull. This morning, I searched for tips on how to clean it once it arrives in Los Angeles county.
And I got the answer.
Or at least, AN answer.
Take it to the self-serve car wash.
My rug isn't valuable and it was not expensive, and its sentimental value is primarily in being reminded of the discomfort of once being a rookie traveler. But I want a rug for next to my bed, and my Burbank condo is taking on the look of mid-century minimalist Foreign Service officer back from abroad, so the rug would fit in nicely.
I bought this wool kilim for $70 in 1995 because that's what I had in my pocket when pal Steve B and I went to Marrakech and thought it would be fun to visit a carpet shop.
It wasn't fun. It was intimidating. This was my first exposure to the hard-sell, and it was on top of being aggressively harassed by touts—including robed and hooded men on Jawa motorcycles—for the first time. (Aside: Marrakesh is way easier now. Don't even worry about this anymore.)
I'm not intimidated by this kind of thing nowadays, and if I were, I couldn't travel the way I do. But the rug I ended up buying out of the weird sense of obligation that goes along with being a tourist in a shop of emotional manipulation experts is headed my way, so I can look at it every day and feel both inadequate and ridiculous every morning.
But here's the thing about this rug...it's kinda dirty. I took it out in my backyard in Jersey City over the weekend and swept it, but its colors are dull. This morning, I searched for tips on how to clean it once it arrives in Los Angeles county.
And I got the answer.
Or at least, AN answer.
Take it to the self-serve car wash.
1 comment:
Hopefully that works!
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