Why White Carpet?

Since I moved to the suburbs in 2003, I have been bewildered and overwhelmed by the phenomenon of white carpet.  Who on earth thought white carpet was a good idea in houses where children, pets, and red wine drinkers live?

We moved into a house with immaculate white carpet. The previous owners had three children, who probably suffer deep emotional scars from having to be hosed down every time they entered the house, never being allowed to use markers or crayons for homework, or permitted to eat or drink inside the house. Perhaps they actually lived in the garage (that was clean when we moved in, too).

I sometimes imagined the owners on a nightly search-and-destroy mission, armed with a bright light, a magnifying glass, a spray bottle of Oxy-Clean stain remover, a carpet brush, and clean towels to locate and annihilate any offending non-white materials that might have inadvertently come to rest on the carpet during the day.

Happily, after ten years with two children, two cats, and a dog, I do not have white carpet in my house any longer.  I have grey carpet with black spots.  It matches my silver Bengal cat perfectly, providing her with a camouflaged environment in which she is able to easily sneak up on me, the kids, and the dog for surprise attacks - and then disappear again into the spotted carpet, leaving us whimpering helplessly and looking around in vain for the furry culprit.

The spots are like a diary, reminding me of the time(s) one of the children threw up, the time(s) the dog peed on the carpet, the time (thankfully only once) I laughed while drinking coffee and it came out my nose. There is a giant blotch to remind me of The Great Nosebleed of 2007, the five or six heel marks of something black and oily that came in on my husband's shoes, the finger paint streaks from my daughter's blue and green period of artwork, and of course the inevitable eating radius around each child's place at the table - a historical record of each dropped raspberry, each hot chocolate spill; and a scientific record of the statistical probability of the toast landing jam side down.

I've tried hiring commercial carpet cleaners, I've rented steam cleaning machines, I spot-clean regularly, all to no avail.  But I think I have found the best way to hide the ugliness, until I can afford the new burgundy carpet or hardwood floors of my dreams.

Never pick up the toys.