Couch Baby

We spent the majority of our time this weekend at the new place, getting things settled.  Well, if not settled, at least...less unsettled.

We stopped off at the supermarket on the way to the house in order to grab something for dinner, and by the time we pulled into the driveway, Rob's brother had arrived.  So had snow.

You know, the snow I was convinced we were getting none of.  The snow that we were only supposed to get an inch of when I first checked the weather upon waking up Saturday morning.  The snow that then changed to 3 inches, and then 4.

Okay, 4 inches.  No big deal.  But still a pain when you're moving things around outside.  Also a pain when you're only stopping at the store for dinner fixins and you're surrounded by frantic, screaming people, gathering whatever leftover bits of stale bread and almost-curdled milk they can steal from someone else's cart.

Maybe it wasn't quite that bad.  But there were a lot of people there and it was a new store and I was overwhelmed so it seemed that bad.  Plus I was with Mr. I Hate Supermarkets On Principle, which didn't make me feel better.

Anyway, back to the house.  So Bill (that would be Rob's brother) gathered more of his things which had been sitting in the house for goodness knows how long, and Rob got the rest of the trash out of the attic, and I...did other things which didn't involve lifting stuff or getting sweaty.

I'm so glad I'm a girl.

Eventually, my husband, the love of my life, had one of his potentially most disastrous ideas.  Ever.

"While Bill's here, why don't we take these two couches upstairs?"

Let me explain.  The couches in question sat in the den.  Our sectional, which we plan to bring with us or else I'll pretty much die because I love this couch upon which I currently sit, would never ever fit upstairs in our "hanging out" room, aka the third bedroom.  We just wouldn't be able to get it through the door.  So we figured we'd move the couches from the den into the upstairs room, and put the sectional in the den so we can still snuggle and watch TV.  It's the perfect snuggling couch.

 "While Bill's here, why don't we take these two couches upstairs?"

Innocent enough question.  But I felt a cold lump in my stomach just the same.  That lump was apprehension.  It's like Future Jen tried to get me to stop the madness before it started.  Future Jen was screaming and pleading with me to just move the loveseat upstairs and put the bigger couch in the garage.  But did I listen? No.  I went along with the plan, the entire time thinking I'm so glad I'm a girl.

After removing the railings and some huffing and puffing, the loveseat went upstairs and into the bedroom with no problems other than forcing it through the door a little bit.  Even then I was laughing and pretending we were giving birth to a giant sofa as we pushed and pushed.  Because at that point it was a joke.  It was easy to laugh at that point.

Then we gave birth to the biggest, most solidly built and destructive sofa ever.

Look ma, no hands!

It took an hour, two doors taken off their hinges, a hole in the bedroom wall, a ripped up doorframe and a broken 2x4 at the bottom of the sofa to get that bleepity bleeping couch into that room.  This is because there was nowhere to take the back end of the thing but into the bathroom and the bathroom and bedroom doors aren't directly across from each other, but several inches off.  This resulted in a solidly wedged couch and three very unhappy people.  Not to mention some minor cosmetic damage to the house which we plan to fix prior to my father-in-law getting home.

Towards the end it became a matter of sheer determination to get that stinking thing into the bedroom.  We'd gasped and groaned over the damage we'd caused.  We'd decided that it would be ok for now to break the sofa in order to get it into the room (seems silly, no? Not when you're actually in the belly of the beast).  I had even grunted and pulled and pushed along with them, but to no avail.

Finally, it was all out war.

Rob cursed and yanked and hard as he could on his end.  Bill let out a prolonged, otherwordly grunt from the bathroom end and started throwing himself against it (seriously, he's a wiry fella, don't let him fool you).  I was kinda scared, to be honest.  But it worked.

And then we died of exhaustion.  The end.



What really happened was that we decided that when it's time to sell the house, the couches go along with it.

I think back on the joke I made when we were moving the loveseat, comparing it to birthing a baby.  In light of all the work that's been going on over the past few weekends and most especially yesterday, I've decided that if it comes down to giving birth to a baby or having to move furniture...

I'm so glad I'm a girl.

 

Snow is pretty.  Imagine several inches of it.

How was YOUR weekend, blog friends?