Carp, carp, carp

I WALKED through the A200 “faculty lounge” this morning at about 9:30, and what did I find? Aha! Furniture! True, it was wrapped in hideous stinky plastic. And yes, it sat upon the world’s harshest, ugliest, linoleumist floor.

BUT THERE WAS FURNITURE! NEW FURNITURE!

An hour and a half later, I was back, and they (whoever they are) had unwrapped and positioned the furniture. I stopped and beheld the scene. “Well, it’s a start,” I said to myself. I went to get my camera. In the hallway, I ran into Mr. M, who said, “Thank you, Mr. Squeaky Wheel!”

“You’re welcome,” I said. In truth, I have been but one of a chorus of squeaky wheels, and by no means the squeakiest. Rebel Girl, for one, has squealed and screeched numerous decibels higher and longer than me.

I happened to catch the eye of a nearby denizen who complained that the furniture was “ugly.” “Plus,” she added, “what about that horrible unmatched tile on the other side of the room!”

Well, yes, there’s that. Who would even think to do this and call it “tile replacement”? A monkey, maybe.

And plainly we need an area rug. That linoleum is shitulistic. Vomitous, even. Sure, sure.

But step back and receive the gestalt. Experience the spankin-new-roomedness of the scene! Is it really so bad?

“Yeah, now that we’ve got some decent furniture, the walls, in contrast, look like total crap,” said Mr. D, peevishly. “We’re gonna have to paint ‘em, that’s what!”

“Yeah,” said someone else, unpleasantly.

OK, I guess so.

Carp, carp, carp.

I found a quiet moment and, alone in the room, I sat upon one of the chairs.

“Not bad,” I said. “Not bad at all.”