I used to think the carpeted hall down the west side of my house was disgusting, I wanted to rip it up, but the owners of this house wanted to preserve the house how their mother left it. I just had to live with the carpet because the family who lived here before didn’t want to let their memories of this home go. It wasn’t a dirty carpet or anything, I mean, unless I hadn’t vacuumed. It was just mid-shag and beige and dated and a bit worn.

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