The night was dark; our introductions, unceremonious. A lumbering man and an unsteady woman hefted me out of a rusted green Torino and carried me past a townhouse complex on Venezia. When they lurched left and started down towards a dilapidated bungalow, I realized my life was about to take a serious turn. I say this as a rug that is highly adaptable. My very first job was for an accountant who loved antiques and had a fringe fetish. He never walked on me – just around me. I accepted this was the way we would generally interact unless he…