Dangers of Decorating

To Pergo or Not to Pergo?

By Mary Mendoza

Moving furniture is a hobby with me -- and a horror to my husband. The only place we haven't had the sofa is the bathroom, and that's because it won't fit.

I love decorating and redecorating, arranging and re-arranging. My family worries that my need for constant change is rooted in a deep psychosis. I tell them it could be worse -- I could be a Beanie Baby addict.

I've been obsessed for years. When my classmates in high school were attending football games and proms, I was pouring over Metropolitan Home for decorating tips.

When we lived in Edmonds, I decided I wanted a Chinese red bathroom -- just like one I'd seen in Town and Country. The salesman cautioned me that although adding oil to the paint achieved the vibrant red I wanted, the paint would take a long, long time to dry.

The stuff went on like Wesson oil, but didn't smell as good. I painted the shower-tub walls, too. After several hours I checked to see if it was dry, only to find that the walls were oozing and bubbling, like something out of a horror film. I didn't know what to do, so I slapped on some more paint.

The amazing red paint continued to ooze for months afterward. It made taking a shower very tricky. When I gave up and decided to start over, the paint peeled off in long slithery strips. The few spots where the paint dried had given the walls a severe case of acne. As my grandfather used to say, "It was a mell of a hess."

I never painted again with oils, but branched out to wallpaper. I've wallpapered the bathroom in our home three times in the last two years.

The first attempt resulted in a Barnum and Bailey Circus effect- stripes and pink polka dots that sent my sons into gales of laughter. The second wallpaper job, which took me three weeks of backbreaking effort, was a busy floral pattern, sections of which I somehow applied upside down.

Last June I found a lovely Marie Antoinette sort of wallpaper in the bargain-bin at a local store. It reminds me of the ladies restroom at the Hyatt Regency Hotel. I'm seriously thinking of redoing it.

Then there's what I call floor torture. Before I discovered iFLOOR.com, I made endless visits to the local floor covering store, pouring over carpet and vinyl samples until my eyes crossed.

I insist that my sales person become emotionally involved. Holding out a glossy chunk of Congoleum, I said to the salesman, "Larry, do you really think the Brazilian Blue makes the right statement? Isn't the Tahitian Tiki pattern more me? Or should I go with Pergo instead?"

After driving Larry loony for hours, I brought some flooring samples home to torment the family. The last time I took carpet samples to show my mother, she saw me coming, locked the door and pulled the shades.

During my years as a quasi-decorator, I've assembled a loyal group of co-conspirators. There's the window-blind woman at Home Base, the brave customer service reps at iFLOOR.com, the paint man at Ace, all the clerks at every Sears in two counties, and a bunch of little shops where I didn't give my real name. I admire the patience and resilience of sales people who have come in contact with me, Hurricane Mary.

For example, when I swept into a local design center recently and announced, "I'm thinking of a Danish-Japanese-Italian Modern look with overtones of Victorian Country for the living room," only a couple of the sales people dove for cover.

When I was looking for wallpaper last June, I revisited the scene of my stormy carpet and vinyl purchase. I asked for my favorite salesman, Larry. I was told that he'd been in the intensive care unit since my last visit, but the doctor said the prognosis is good if he finds a different line of work -- like alligator wrestling.

My next decorating scheme, which I haven't told my husband about, is to have him move our antique piano, (it only weighs a thousand pounds or so), into the kitchen. I'm so bored with that dumb old refrigerator and stove. It's definitely time to make a few changes around here!

Biographical Sketch - Mary Mendoza

Madcap Mary Mendoza, formerly known as Hurricane Mary, lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, son, three cats and 200,000 Sunset magazines.

Madcap's humor columns and feature stories have appeared in publications around the Northwest as well as online. She is the author of The Adventures of Madcap Mary, a collection of humorous stories. Madcap can be reached at mcmendoza@ispiral.com. Visit Madcap's site! http://www.madcapmary.com.