Dear shag rug,
Look. We need to talk.
I purchased you for this apartment because you were gorgeous.
I saw you across the showroom and you pulled me in with your thick pile of wool, despite your price tag.
You were sexy. You were the right shade of brown. You were divine.
But the reality is, you've got some big issues. And I feel betrayed.
You are so thick, you cause my wimpy vacuum to choke. I've had this vacuum for a while and since he's been here longer than you, he has seniority. So don't even tell me to replace him. And now I'm learning that one should not even vacuum a shag wool rug (apparently because of the above reason). Why didn't you tell me this when I met you? The internet now tells me the recommended suggestion for cleaning is a good shake. Not sure how to do that since you weigh about 200 pounds and are 9ft by 12 ft.
You are not good for my blood pressure. The kids walk over you when they clear the dining table. I clutch my chest every time someone carries a half-eaten bowl of noodles to the kitchen. I know it they drop it, I will never find those noodles. You would devour them. And we know my vacuum won't be of any assistance.
But the biggest problem I have with you is that you shed like you are some sort of wild animal. I am finding your fur in all corners of the apartment. This is not endearing. They look like fur balls a cat coughed up, except these fur balls are the size of my head. Sometimes they frighten the children.
I'm giving you a stern warning. I'll let you slide on the vacuum issue, but if you don't stop this shedding, you will end up on the street corner with all the other things NY apartment dwellers toss out.
And whoever scavengers you off the street might not be as nice as this family is.
Think about it.
Willing to give you a second chance,