And the sun rises on our final day of Top Design madness; in celebration, I put on The Doors' The End and dance about like Martin Sheen at the beginning of Apocalypse Now. Hey, I didn't say that Carisa was the only who went loopy because of this show. When Carl walks into the loft just before 8 a.m., Carisa is up off the floor and painting the walls. It looks very nice, so maybe the trick is to have her do future projects on little-to-no rest. Of course, that might prompt more tirades like this on: "I've been here all night, and I haven't slept, and I haven't been able to do anything that was, like, really, important." So maybe we table that idea. Matt appears to be in decidedly better spirits: "I'm three-quarters up the mountain. And when I get to the top, I can either, like, cruise back down in my Acadia, or I'm, like, hitching it." For your sake, Matt, I hope the judges aren't basing their final decision on the ability to construct compelling metaphors. Because if they are, you're as sunk as... a thing... that... doesn't float... very well. Guh.
Time passes, and we return to Carisa's loft just in time to see her move to Manic on the behavior scale. She's finishing up the cork-board walls and is in much higher spirits than earlier in the morning now that her furniture is arriving. "The worst is over," she enthuses via voice over; the editors choose to juxtapose that statement with the image of a delivery man bursting every blood vessel in his forehead as he hauls some of that furniture into the loft. Clearly, the worst has only begun for this gentleman. Carisa decides to encourage her delivery crew with the following exhortation: "Yes! Yes, men! Ye-he-he-hes!" Oh God -- she's got the Space Madness! Run for your lives! Matt's furniture is being delivered with decidedly less lunacy. He also appears to have made some really strong -- albeit outrageously priced -- selections. Take the desk in his daughter's bedroom -- that's $7,000, right there, jack, and won't that feel like money well spent the moment she starts defacing it with a Crayola? Out in the dining area, a delivery guy observes that the glass table Matt's picked "looks kinda good." "What do you mean, 'kinda'?" Matt asks dryly. The delivery guy laughs, but I'm not sure he was joking, dude -- just start backing toward the door slowly and the minute you see him get ready to pounce, you run. You run like the wind.