Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Alright, in all fairness the old couch served us well and, before that, served the Grandstaffs well, so it really has reached the natural lifespan of a couch. When I moved in, the apartment--aside from a bed, bookcase, and lounge chair--it was basically an empty box. We needed a place to lounge around and read the paper (and snuggle) and the we were happy to take it off their hands when they got a new sectional.
But since then our relationship with the beige monstrosity has soured. It began when the cushions started ripping for no other reason than they had one (or fifty) sits too many. Now shredded, stained, beaten up, and lumpy, the thing is (sniffle, tear, cheer) ready for the dumpster.
And in its place, sits our new sofa and just like the beginning of every relationship we are smitten. The cushions are perfectly firm and comfortable! the fabric is clean! The modern lines are divine! We couldn't be more satisfied with our new piece of furniture.
However, it wasn't the best first date. After a stressful trip to IKEA that had us searching high and low for all the correct pieces and a color that wasn't hideous, we returned home to assemble the thing. Everything was going smoothly until, in true Chris and Kelley fashion, the very last step. We had screwed the arms on, covered the pillows, and successfully attached three of four legs. Then came that damn fourth leg.
The combination of a bad bolt and an Allen wrench that applied the same amount of torque that a three-year-old might posses left our beautiful new sofa incomplete and the two of us fuming with sour thumbs. So we slept on it and marched ourselves down to the hardware store in the morning.
Of course, the hardware store did not have the right size bolt nor did it have a more powerful tool in which to replace the Allen wrench. So Chris and I, along with this old hardware store guy named Norm, began sorting out our debacle. At one point Norm was trying to convince us to buy a hack saw in order to devise a better tool for which to adhere the leg with.
Chris and I do not hack.
Judging from the intimidated look on our faces, Norm decided it would be best if he broke a little company policy and did the hacking for us. And you know what? It worked! Thanks to Norm, the new tool was just what we needed to get that last leg in place.
Now the sofa is complete and we are ready to be couch potatoes.
I used to sit in the cube behind you. Then I didn't. And then we fell in love.
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