Here's a picture of our beautiful new couch.
My husband: "I sort of miss our old sofa."
Me: "It's sitting outside. In the cold and dark. Lonely."
My husband: "Do you think sofas have feelings?"
Me: "I don't think so."
My husband: "I hope not."
And then, "I'm pretty sure it does. And it hates us right now.
I'm pretty sure it does, too.
What a pathetic scene.
The furniture store wanted $50 to remove the old sofa. It's not even worth that! We meant to stash it under the covered back patio until we can rent a dumpster in which to toss a few other furniture pieces that are literally falling apart, as well as miscellaneous junk that has been taking up valuable real estate in the garage, but one thing led to another yesterday and we never got around to it. As I was scraping ice and snow off the van this morning, I looked over and . . . quickly had to look away. Oh, the guilt! I feel like I should cover the old sofa with a blanket and offer it a mug of hot chocolate or something. It's the same insane reasoning that makes me eat one Oreo too many because if I leave just one in the package, it will surely get lonely and cry.
Seriously, Old Couch . . . Don't look at me like that!