It was bound to happen. Inevitable, sooner or later.
The fusion of two polarities. The coming together of Minnie and Micky Mouse. Of Bonnie and Clyde. Of football and fans. Of Black Friday and Wal-mart tramplings.
Had to happen, make no mistake. And it did.
The coupling of beige carpet and red wine.
I sometimes enjoy a glass of red wine late at night in candlelight while watching Netflix on my laptop in bed.
Since I’ve a little bit of a clumsy streak — a remarkable contradiction to my surprisingly quick and honed reflexes and superb hand-eye coordination — I take care around beverages and things easily knocked over.
I’ve always been a little off that way. Like my brain and body aren’t fully in sync. Like my brain’s 2 seconds ahead of where my body is. It’s a quirk.
It was funny.
I was returning my cup — my special and beloved plastic cup with a skeleton’s face on the front and a gripping bony hand on the back, there’s a story for another day — to the side table when I noted a few tiny droplets fly as I set it down.
Well aware of the beige carpet between the bed and table, I immediately set to dabbing those droplets. When all of a sudden my hand misjudged in that quirk I’ve got. And toppled the cup, sending Cabernet Sauvignon flying!
Onto my mattress and sheet. Onto the table. And above all across the beige carpet.
As I hastened for a rag, I sought to recall what I’d read about removing red wine from carpet. Salt!
But no. Is that really the best solution?
I carefully dabbed — DO NOT RUB! it’s always written. Since the cup was fairly full, the pool of wine was no little matter. Clearly a single rag was proving too small for the size of the spill. Plus droplets had splattered far and wide. Like when a glass bottle’s dropped. You end up finding shards 50 feet away! Usually by stepping on one.
Netflix paused, I hurriedly googled “carpet and red wine.” A plethora of hits. I jumped into one that appeared informative and legit.
“Pour two cups of warm water into a bowl. Add 1 tablespoon of white vinegar and 1 tablespoon of dish detergent.”
Oh yeah, good ol’ white vinegar, the godsend of many a cleaning project! P.S. As I don’t care for vinaigrettes, the sole reason I even have it in the house is for cleaning.
Armed now with solution and roll of white paper towels, I diligently and quickly set to soaking the spill and splatters far and wide with a sponge saturated with said solution. Again, carefully, direct firm pressure, no rubbing.
I’m happy to report it worked!
While the splatters lifted pretty quickly, the worst of the spill — which of course lay awkwardly in the narrow space between table and mattress and thus required a contortionist — required repeated applications.
And a keen eye.
Because here’s the thing about my property management company. They are STICKLERS. Not quite prison wardens but verrrry strict and boy have they spelled out the rules in the lease! Mine for a little studio alone is like 10 pages!
You’re not allowed even nail holes. If you got ’em, be prepared to pay for their repair. I’m sure they hire someone just to check. He probably marches around with a chart on a clipboard. “Let’s see. 15 holes. At 82 cents a hole. That’s a $12.30 charge.” Check! Professional Nail-Hole Counter. I could do that job.
Hence it behooved me to switch on the bright overhead light (oooowww, my eyes!), grab the flashlight, get down on my hands and knees and examine ev-er-y single carpet fiber within a 3-foot radius for a hint of the shade of cabernet.
It’s about 1:30 in the morning. And I’m playing detective with a flashlight on my hands and knees in a homicide. Seeking evidence of a ghastly spill. Not blood but Kirkland Cabernet Sauvignon from Costco.
My keen eye and meticulous and detail-oriented nature and investigation paid off. Several hard-to-spot tiny red-stained spots were discovered and promptly soaked up before they could dry.
Once satisfied that every tiny droplet had been found, I dabbed gently to dry with paper towels. I wasn’t worried about the vinegar and Dawn discoloring the carpet. Just for good measure.
I tossed a good quarter roll of red-stained paper towels into the trash. Dumped the solution. Changed into other PJs because — oh yeah — the wine soaked my jammies too. And sheet. Didn’t really care about that. My uber-picky and fines-oriented rental company ain’t gonna ding me for bedding
God Save the Carpet!
And I did. 🙂
Just for fun, here’s my sheet being “repaired” by OxiClean Laundry Spray. (Novel I even have that in the house!)
And since I own only own set of sheets, I simply tossed a towel on top of that big ol’ honkin’ spill you see and slept on that.
I resumed my movie with a new cup of wine that I brought to my lips ever so gingerly with two hands for the remaining night.
I do love that plastic skeleton cup. And my red wine. Nonetheless, I remain a bit rattled and uneasy. I may need to play it safe for the next week: