Things are not all rosy in MattLand, either. His plan to strike out from the ordinary and create a leather floor is consuming much more of his time than he imagined. His painting is incomplete as his floor swatches stretch out before him like a cruel, leathery grin. He turns to Michael and says, "You know how things always seem like a good idea until you're doing them?" Hmmmm... let me see if I can flashback to a recent conversation that I had to see if I can empathize.
Sars: Hey, Mr. Sobell. How's about recapping Top Design?
Mr. Sobell: Sure. What's the worst that could happen?
No, Matt. I don't understand what you're talking about. Not at all.
That short shriek of agonized frustration can only mean one thing: Goil is having floor issues too. Goil attributes his current woes to a lack of patience. Perhaps, but the fact that he's swinging a hammer like he's trying to bludgeon the floorboards into submission probably isn't making this go any easier. Jiminy, Goil, what happened to you? Where's the confident young man whose designs captured the heart of Alexis Arquette? Where's the plucky fellow who built rollaway beds and hideouts and planted ceramic peppers hither and thither? All I know is that the shrieking little goofball who's flinging around floorboards and simpering to his carpenter about how frustrated he's become is not that man. So get it together, dude. Sarah the Carpentress says much the same thing as I just did, only pithier and nicer and with fewer links to Alexis Arquette. To his credit, Goil gives the requisite props to Sarah for talking him down off the ledge: "She's actually also better than me as well, because she's calm when I am not." Dude, if that's your metric for measuring who's better than you, I'm guessing it's not that exclusive a list. People who test espresso shots for a living are calmer than Goil.
Michael's struggles against the visible color wheel continue, as he works on painting some wall decorations for his room. "I was attracted to the color red, because, psychologically, that's a color that makes you hungry and makes food taste better while you look at it." Which may well be true, although to my eyes, it looks the color red he's chosen is actually orange. And red or not, the only thing this color makes me hungry for is the sweet release of death. Is that on the menu? Andrea and her carpenter Blair are busy cutting slate and adding grout; as someone who watched his contractor painstaking apply grout to our remodeled bathroom last summer, I can tell you that there is no way, short of nudity, to make groutwork compelling television. That said, Andrea's finished product looks nice. Matt is wrapping up his leather flooring death march, and Goil has turned his fragile mind to the calming practice of painting stripes. Boy, things sure seem to be running smoothly right about now -- I wonder if we can get an example of designer-contractor tension, just for the sake of contrast. That'd be your cue, Carisa. She's designing her chef's room as an extension of the kitchen, and, in fairness to her, the banquette that's been built looks very solid. Ah, but since this is Carisa, nothing can be as it seems -- she's hectoring Carl the Carpenter to finish up his work on the benches in such a way that Carl is moved to observe "You know, I really do know what I'm doing," without looking up from his appointed task. Carisa rolls her eyes, because it wouldn't be a Wednesday night at 10 PM (9 PM, Central) without her looking heavenward when someone says something not to her liking. I suggest you work out your feelings, Carisa, by slagging on Carl via voice-over: "[Carl] is a perfectionist. So he can get distracted with details." And be sure to snipe about him to one of your fellow contestants. "He has spent the last hour making the benches," she whispers to Michael. And then, finally, could you go back to Carl and nag at him a little bit more? "I'd like to see this as close to done as possible tonight," Carisa says to Carl, as she rubs her face in exasperation. Excellent. Top-notch work there. By disappointing, Carisa, you never fail to disappoint.