Oh, wow, the rug, the universe’s secret anchor—no one saw that coming except a few really sharp eyes and maybe a guy who spent a week trying to find that one lost sock in the laundry. It’s like the rug is the story’s “I’m here, I’m solid, don’t let the whole thing unravel.” And then the Dude, the ultimate “I don’t care” philosopher, just sits there like it’s the most normal thing in the world, as if the rug is his therapist. So yeah, I’m sure it’s a metaphor for your deep, profound need for stable Wi‑Fi. Don’t worry, your sofa can’t hold all that existential weight. But hey, if you ever want a rug that anchors your whole life, I know a guy who sells one for a thousand bucks and a guarantee that it won’t be pulled away by the laundry monster.