Goodbye, old couch…
2.2.09
In my overly optimistic hope that the house will sell someday, I want to be ready when (if) the time comes by streamlining the furniture now, while we have the time to do it. No matter where we go, we know it will be a smaller place, and certain things will not go with us, no matter what that new place looks like.
One such item is a sleeper sofa that we bought in 1993. Claire has always commented on how ugly it is, but I’ve never thought so. I’m not sure I’d choose its upholstery all over again, but in its defense, it’s not ugly.
We bought it in Vermont, where the kids were born, and its job was being the main piece of furniture in a little family room sort of a place. We must have gotten it right before Claire was born, because I have lots of photos of her all propped up on it when she was just a few weeks and months old and couldn’t sit up by herself.
Since that house, it’s been mostly relegated to basements, and once it didn’t even make the cut to go inside at a particularly small rental house that we were in for a short time — during that stint, I think it lived in the garage.
When it arrived at this house, several moves later, its upholstery was especially out of place, so we even dropped a pretty penny on a black slipcover for it. It remained in service in our basement until it was displaced (literally — pushed over to the wall with stuff piled on it) by a much-beloved love seat that belonged to Alex’s mother, and that would have gone who-knows-where after she died a couple of years ago if we hadn’t rescued it.
Anyway, I finally convinced Alex that we should be making hay while the sun shines, so to speak, by getting rid of things while we have the time and are not frantic with hundreds of house-selling, house-buying, and moving details. He agreed (at least where the couch was concerned — it’s a start), and yesterday he put it on Craiglist for free.
Now, don’t get me wrong: I would have preferred to give it to a charitable organization or to a struggling family that really needed it, but I’d tried to do that numerous times over the last few months, only to be told repeatedly, “No, thanks.” Maybe sleepers are too heavy? Maybe they attract bed bugs? I don’t know — they didn’t even know that it was ugly; they just rejected it outright.
The Craigslist listing brought in some prospects, though, and this morning while I was away, Alex and the couch’s new owner managed to wrangle it out of the house through the walkout basement (vs. up the stairs — good move), across the snow, and over a snow bank to the street. That’s when Alex, on the leading end, took a plunge into the snow, but eventually, the couch rode away to its new home in nearby Belleville. Alex thought that the new owner was going to put it in a dog daycare facility or some such. Oh, well.
But the point of the story? I feel sad about losing this couch, even though it was my idea to get rid of it.
I can picture in my mind — and have the photographic evidence to prove — the many times when we sat on that couch, reading stories to the kids in our bathrobes (and now-outdated and laughable eyeglasses). I can picture Sean playing on it; I can picture Claire all propped up on it; I can remember many hours spent playing in that room — me on the couch, and the kids on the floor.
And now it’s gone. It was a part of Sean’s history particularly, and now it’s gone. Goodbye, old couch.
One such item is a sleeper sofa that we bought in 1993. Claire has always commented on how ugly it is, but I’ve never thought so. I’m not sure I’d choose its upholstery all over again, but in its defense, it’s not ugly.
We bought it in Vermont, where the kids were born, and its job was being the main piece of furniture in a little family room sort of a place. We must have gotten it right before Claire was born, because I have lots of photos of her all propped up on it when she was just a few weeks and months old and couldn’t sit up by herself.
Since that house, it’s been mostly relegated to basements, and once it didn’t even make the cut to go inside at a particularly small rental house that we were in for a short time — during that stint, I think it lived in the garage.
When it arrived at this house, several moves later, its upholstery was especially out of place, so we even dropped a pretty penny on a black slipcover for it. It remained in service in our basement until it was displaced (literally — pushed over to the wall with stuff piled on it) by a much-beloved love seat that belonged to Alex’s mother, and that would have gone who-knows-where after she died a couple of years ago if we hadn’t rescued it.
Anyway, I finally convinced Alex that we should be making hay while the sun shines, so to speak, by getting rid of things while we have the time and are not frantic with hundreds of house-selling, house-buying, and moving details. He agreed (at least where the couch was concerned — it’s a start), and yesterday he put it on Craiglist for free.
Now, don’t get me wrong: I would have preferred to give it to a charitable organization or to a struggling family that really needed it, but I’d tried to do that numerous times over the last few months, only to be told repeatedly, “No, thanks.” Maybe sleepers are too heavy? Maybe they attract bed bugs? I don’t know — they didn’t even know that it was ugly; they just rejected it outright.
The Craigslist listing brought in some prospects, though, and this morning while I was away, Alex and the couch’s new owner managed to wrangle it out of the house through the walkout basement (vs. up the stairs — good move), across the snow, and over a snow bank to the street. That’s when Alex, on the leading end, took a plunge into the snow, but eventually, the couch rode away to its new home in nearby Belleville. Alex thought that the new owner was going to put it in a dog daycare facility or some such. Oh, well.
But the point of the story? I feel sad about losing this couch, even though it was my idea to get rid of it.
I can picture in my mind — and have the photographic evidence to prove — the many times when we sat on that couch, reading stories to the kids in our bathrobes (and now-outdated and laughable eyeglasses). I can picture Sean playing on it; I can picture Claire all propped up on it; I can remember many hours spent playing in that room — me on the couch, and the kids on the floor.
And now it’s gone. It was a part of Sean’s history particularly, and now it’s gone. Goodbye, old couch.
