Our big brown couch was a behemoth of a thing that filled up most of our family room.
When it was new, it was quite luxurious with plush buttery leather and firm but comfortable over-stuffed cushions. My kids would often fight over the “corner,” on movie night because it was the best seat in the house and allowed for full leg extension. I chose leather because everything wipes right off it. From smoothies to Cheetos crumbs to cat throw-up, leather is by far the most forgiving material ever made, but it comes with a big price tag. That is why we have been sitting on our big brown couch for 16 years.
Many memories have been made on that couch. From Super Bowl parties to birthday parties and Christmas Eve celebrations, our couch has been there. We have had many an overnight guest exclaim that it is more comfortable than any bed, and our animals seem to prefer it as well. Over time our couch has become a lot more relaxed and wrinkly, kind of like my skin. It has aged past that “lived-in” look and now resembles a melting brown candle. Although I have tried to revive it with expensive leather wipes and conditioners, it looks good for only a day or two. I have plumped up the cushions and switched them around, but they refuse to stand up anymore. There is a hole in one of the seats. I found some brown leather repair tape on Amazon and patched it up pretty well. The only problem is, whenever someone gets up from the couch, usually an unassuming guest, the brown tape usually goes with them, stuck to their butt. I don’t know which is more embarrassing – pointing out that they have tape hanging off their butt or admitting that I have to use tape to hold my couch together.
Our cats have added to our couch’s slow demise. They somehow figured out how to crawl up underneath it and shred it to ribbons. From afar you can see black stringy fabric hanging down. Pets. Sometimes I forget why we have them.
I began asking Maury for a new couch a couple years ago, but he was resistant. He was oblivious to all the holes, faded seating and cat scratch marks. Men seem to have built-in blinders when it comes to stuff like that but forget to wind the garden hose back up and they are all over you.
Maybe Maury is more like the old brown couch than he realizes, because his resistance also seems to be wearing down. When I asked him, again, if I could at least look for a new couch, he said yes!
I wasted no time. Call me impulsive, but within one afternoon I had a new couch picked out. I chose a dark gray microfiber sectional with ottoman. Apparently, cats are supposed to have an aversion to microfiber. Well, I’ll keep you posted on that. In the mean time I plan on having a spray bottle nearby!
Delivery was set for the following week, and I was giddy, until I realized I would actually have to part with our big brown couch. Suddenly I was emotional. The thought of it sitting at the dump brought tears to my eyes! Maybe I could give it to someone. But who in their right mind would want this beat-up slouchy couch? Maury walked by and saw me looking wistfully at it.
“Give it to Jamie,” he said nonchalantly. “He and his roommates will love it.”
My son had just moved into a townhouse with two other guys, and they were short on furnishings. Genius! Not only were they 20 year olds, they were men! They wouldn’t care about all the warts and flaws – why, they probably wouldn’t even notice them!
I texted Jamie and within minutes he replied back, “YES! I want it!”
It was a relief to know it was staying in the family.
Delivery day arrived, and I wanted to clean up the old couch for Jamie. I pulled off the cushions. Yikes. Crumbs, socks, hair ties, money, more crumbs. It was disgusting. I got the shop vac and did my best. The delivery guys helped us load the old brown couch into the back of our pick-up truck. Then, in came my brand new beautiful couch. Finally.
Jamie and Maury started tying down the old couch that barely fit onto the truck, making it look like Jed Clampett’s truck from “The Beverly Hillbillies,” but bungee cords and rope held the couch tightly in place. It was time to go.
As I watched the truck head slowly down the street, I felt a little tug at my heart. If only that couch could talk. Sixteen years of watching five kids grow from toddlers to teens and finally to adults and all the laughter, tears, bickering and love in between.
“Good-bye couch,” I said under my breath, giving a little wave. Thanks for the memories.