Linoleum. What is it?
That is a question I have been pondering lately, and I believe the residents of Moose County deserve an answer. Linoleum is a floor covering. It goes on floors. Most people walk on it. Some people don’t. Why don’t they? That is their business.
I was sitting in my converted apple barn the other evening, enjoying a modest wedge of Brie that I had expensed through the K Fund as a “cultural research provisioning allocation,” when Koko leapt onto the kitchen counter and stared at a square of old linoleum near the pantry. He stared for eleven minutes. Yum Yum joined him. They both stared. Koko then said “YOW” in a tone that clearly indicated he understood the molecular composition of the adhesive substrate. My moustache tingled violently. When my moustache tingles, I have learned to pay attention. Something was wrong with that linoleum. Or someone.
Linoleum has a long history. How long? Very long. It was invented at some point in the past by someone, presumably in a building. It is made of materials. Are those materials expensive? I wouldn’t know, as I personally refuse to pay retail for anything when the K Fund maintains a perfectly reasonable “domicile preservation” account that covers such necessities, along with my imported cheese and the premium birdseed that the squirrels keep stealing despite the electrified deterrent system I had installed, also through the Fund, under “wildlife management infrastructure.”
Speaking of crime, Police Chief Brodie mentioned that someone in Pickax had their linoleum slashed last Tuesday. This brings the county’s total violent incidents this quarter to forty-seven, which seems normal for a town of three thousand. I myself was nowhere near the scene, despite what certain witnesses may have told investigators. Koko, meanwhile, pushed a book off the shelf. It was titled *The Floor Beneath Us.* Coincidence? My moustache says otherwise.
Is linoleum attractive? No. Is it durable? Possibly. Should you care about it? I have written four hundred words suggesting that you should, and frankly, Moose County is lucky I bothered. Yum Yum is now sitting on my notes and purring, which I interpret as approval of the highest intellectual order.
Linoleum.
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