I moved the futon over by the window. There was like an eight or nine foot space in my living room now, so I went in search of the biggest, softest damn couch I could find. And I found it. 112 feet of green velvet that you could just melt into and maybe never escape. Sweet. Maybe it wasn't quite 112 feet long. But it was pretty big. And oh so very comfy.

Dave kindly agreed to drive me to the thrift store to pick it up. It barely fit in the back of his truck. That was my first hint that perhaps I had been a little too overzealous.

Dave and I got it up the stairs with a minimum of difficulty. Now, you have to understand a little about my apartment. Basically, the idea I want you to grasp firmly in your mind is that my apartment sucks. Got that?

It's the upper half of a house. You go up the narrow little staircase, and you're literally two feet away from the bedroom. You're technically in the kitchen, and the living room is directly to your left. It's a tiny little intersection. My front foyer is a 3x3 square, surrounded on all sides by doorways with far too narrow jambs.

So, Dave and I got the couch up the stairs, and took it straight into the bedroom. And got no further. Dave was even really smart about it. He took the bedroom door off the hinges, to give us an extra inch or two. We tried angling it into the living room. We tried angling it into the kitchen. Nothing. The couch was too damn long to navigate the foyer. Dave was late for work, so I told him to just go, I'd figure something out.

I thought that maybe if I cut the legs off, I'd get a little extra maneuverability. I'd cut off three legs before I realized that even if this did work, I couldn't move it alone.

I called the lounge. Paul and Rijid and Ken said they'd be right over.

Dave had been smart. It hadn't been enough. I had been slightly insane. It hadn't been enough. Paul and Co. went for raw brute force. They ripped the top of the couch upholstery, and played holy hell with several doorjambs, but the couch remained in the bedroom.

So, now what? If I hadn't cut off the legs and ripped the top, I could maybe have taken it back to the thrift store. Several people suggested just rearranging the entire apartment.

Yeah. Not only would that be an incredible pain in the ass, I don't really wanna think about it. The library has the only fullsize wall without windows in the entire apartment. That's where the bookshelves have to go. The bedroom has all the closets. Besides, I love the bright and airy bedroom with lots of windows. The library windows are smaller, and mostly covered up by trees. It just wouldn't work, OK?

So, there's this hugeass couch in the bedroom now. Paul suggested that the House would love a new couch. Tom and Azzurra have also expressed interest. None of these people have a truck, and we are of course dealing with Tau apathy. I don't think I want to tempt God any further, so I won't even look for another couch till I get rid of the green monster.

Dammit! All I want is a nice home with a decent couch! Is that really so much to ask? Other people get to have couches. Why not me? Why not me???

***

Oh, and Mrs. Downstairs called. She tried to get out of the driveway, and asked if I could maybe move that couch out there over just a few more feet. SHE HAD PLENTY OF ROOM, but really, I'm not upset at all.

I'm actually kind of tempted to just pile the green couch on top of the leather one. Maybe I'll start buying a new couch every week, just to stack them up at the end of the driveway.

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