It’s a big, ugly couch. We dragged it down with us when we moved back from Canada, even though the house we were moving into was too small and it had to go into storage. When we moved again, we got a new couch and this one got stuck down in the basement (with all the other crap from the storage unit). It’s been down there collecting dust and cat hair for the last five years. It’s ratty, it’s tattered, it’s dirty. Springs are sticking through the fabric.
Last week I was getting an estimate with a local handyman to put a vent in the master bathroom. As long as I had him out here, I asked if he knew anyone who could get the monster couch out of my basement. He said sure, he could bring a friend to help him do it when he came to put in the vent.
Today they came and put in the vent (no more mildew in the bathroom, hooray!). And they hefted that old couch up the basement steps and down to the curb. Tomorrow they’ll come back with a truck and haul it off—although with any luck someone will spot it there tonight and make off with it. Take my couch, please!
There it is, in all its hideous glory. The cushions for the thing were lost ages ago. Probably I’ll turn them up two years from now as I continue to de-crap the basement. I’m doing the FlyLady thing, which means each day my house is a little less of a landfill.
Now I’m going to go downstairs and spin in the empty space where the couch was.