The end of the day is pretty scary

If you read yesterday's blog post, you know that at the end of the day with a certain wood flooring individual we were pretty much in a comatose state of mind. Yet as he took us through 3500 feet of showroom -- a log house in which every conceivable surface, including the stove, bathtub, and light fixtures, seemed to be made of wood -- we gradually became aware of how isolated we were. We had followed the man from his office through gazillions of miles of hills and woods further into the countryside, and we had no idea where we were. We thought we might still be in Pennsylvania, but it could also have been Tennessee. The GPS, our only link to civilization, signed off and wished us well.

The fact that there were other houses nearby did not give us much comfort, as they looked to be perfect settings for a horror movie. As we moved from room to room in the showroom, it got darker and darker outside. We realized how entirely dependent on the man we were. If he chose to leave us behind, there was nothing we could do about it. We would wither away right there, surrounded by all that pine and oak and chestnut, until we would surely fade away and become one with the wood.

It was some comfort that if we were indeed left there, at least we would have heat, as the entire building was outfitted with radiant heating. The man, apparently forgetting that we had come to look at flooring, took great pains to explain the heating system and show us all the little pipes through which the water flowed. Although this was an interesting feature, it did cross our minds that we had yet to see any samples of floors. Where are the floor samples? Does he have any? Maybe it's all a ruse to kidnap us and -- what his plans for us might be were unclear, until finally when we were ready to go he suddenly urged us to look in the little shed next door.

At this point we were sure that the man had nefarious designs on us. He just hadn't wanted to carry them out in his beautiful showroom and get it all messy. But the dusty shed, with its inventory of newly built tables and cupboards, was the perfect place to carry out his crime. This is the part where it ends, we thought.We're not getting out of here alive! All those cupboards...maybe there are bodies in them.

This line of thinking prevented us from fully attending to the man's story about his trip to the Bahamas. We hoped we weren't being rude. We looked around at the furniture he had brought us in to see, feigning interest in pine cabinets and cupboards that all looked alike and, given our train of thought, sinister. The Bahamas story finally at an end, we stumbled outside in the dark to take our leave, feeling lucky to escape, unlike those other poor souls that might be in the cupboards inside. Or under the floors.

But the danger was not past yet. The man's car headlights had conveniently gone out, and we were afraid he might use it as an excuse to ride with us, take us further into the remote woods -- if that were possible -- and do us in with no witnesses around. But the headlights miraculously came back on, as did our GPS, which we hugged profusely and made fervent promises to never treat badly again.

Once safely back in civilization, of course we laughed at our overactive imagination. But if we hear that any flooring customers have gone missing in Pennsylvania, or perhaps Tennessee...