Epic Story of Defying Physics in Order to Get a Massive Couch into my Place
◊
(Happy 100th entry to me! Oooh, that sounds dirty.)
Owen is a sadistic bastard.
Now, he claims he was just trying to be nice when he called up and asked if I wanted the old couch from his living room. His dad got a new one and this one's really comfortable and in pretty good shape, so would I want it? Sure I would!
I have seen this couch. I should've known what I was in for.
See, I do not live in a normal apartment. I live in a converted attic. The stairs are terrifying. They are my Darwinism In Action stairs. They make drunks reel in terror, and not just because it's 12 steps to the landing, ha ha ha. They are so narrow that you have to step up them with your feet turned sideways, and they have a 90-degree turn at the top.
And this couch? It is huge. You could house a family of four on it if you could attach a roof to it.
This couch is epic. I keep having to shoo bards out of my living room because they're always hovering around the couch, composing ballads about it. If I had my camera, I'd take an actual picture of it, but it's in my car so you will have to rely on this super-accurate sketch.
It hit me when I was standing in Owen's garage, staring at this massive acreage of plush sofa. I just stood around with my hands on my hips hissing "Fffffuck" to myself for a couple minutes and shaking my head, trying to remember how much beer I had in the fridge. I would need all of it to bribe Owen to help me get the thing into my living room.
It was folly and I knew it.
We loaded the beast into my parents' minivan and lashed it down with some frayed nylon rope. I did an excellent job of not accidentally dropping the couch on anyone's windshield on the way there and we arrived safely in Campbell.
We pulled into the driveway. We got out of the minivan. We looked at the hallway. We looked at the couch. We looked at the hallway again.
"Ffffuck," I said. "Ffffffffuck."
We shook our heads.
"Got a tape measure?" said Owen.
Owen measured the couch, the doorway, and the hallway. We figured out we could probably get the couch through the door if we took off the couch's feet.
And the front door.
And the door at the top of the hallway.
And if, of course, we moved the dryer into the kitchen first.
I'm told it took an hour and ten minutes to get the couch up the stairs. I remember having to hang onto Owen's hand to hold him up while he climbed over the top of the couch. And I remember kneeling underneath the couch to take the bottom hinges off the door at the top of the stairs.
And if I really need to remember more, I can go out the hallway and admire the gouges in the drywall and doodle with my toe in the gypsum all over the stairs.
It sure is a nice couch, though. I like it and it's really comfortable.
Which is why I'll be taking it with me when I move next month.
Oh, god.