I’ll bet you were wondering why I posted about my couch yesterday and then made it private, weren’t you? Well, I can assure you that you didn’t miss anything truly exciting. That post was intended for the representative of FURNITURE DESIGNER + HIS EX-PARTNER. It simply contained a series of photographs and two video clips of our couch.
Why? Well, because it just turned three years old and it is literally falling apart. We bought the couch through my good friend who is an interior designer at the same time that we bought this:
6 dining room chairs similar to this, but with custom upholstery:
One of these:
One of these:
One giant leather tufted ottoman and finally, one linen bench ottoman to match the bed. I don’t have pictures of those and, frankly, I’m far too exhausted by the whole thing to bother posting pictures of my glorified footstools at the moment.
Yes, it’s true that we had a bit more money back then. We were moving from our tiny Boston apartment and needed to furnish this:
Then we were surprised by one more of these:
Remember that time I wrote about how three children and that house had sucked the pretty right out of me? No? Well, click on those words back there and you’ll find out why I’m so hideous. Not only did they all steal the last vestiges of beauty, they also sucked most of the money away too. My hard-working husband will entirely back me up on that claim.
Anywho…fast forward three years and we’re now sitting on a busted couch from a high-end designer. The right-side arm always wiggled and the slipcover really never fit properly, but we dealt with it because the pleat that was pulling on the slipcover was on the back-side of the couch. No one saw it. Plus, I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass to my friend who had helped me order everything. I truly hate to ask people for favors. So much so that it’s a borderline psychosis. For example, my arm might be hanging off and I should go to the nearest hospital, but I’d rather bleed to death than ask someone to keep an eye on the kids so I can obtain proper medical attention. I’ve gone off subject entirely, haven’t I?
Where was I?
Oh right…two weeks ago I noticed that when I sat on the couch I was caving into the middle and toward the front. Then I washed the slipcover (of course following manufacturer instructions) and, as I was putting it back onto the couch, the entire room filled with the sound of tearing. The entire back pleat ripped apart and tore a hole in the heavy denim twill.
Fantastic, I thought, then began swearing at no one in particular.
With a sigh, I resigned myself to the fact that we were a couple of suckers who bought a pricey slipcover that was now torn. That denim twill that I’d picked because I envisioned years of durable wear was flayed open right in front of my eyes. I gingerly resumed slipcover arrangement, placed my hand on the front frame and realized that it was moving. I stood back, gave it a good look and realized that the whole frame on the front of the couch was sagging. The front board that is supposed to be holding the cushions up is completely detached from the frame.
Really? Well, that explains why I have the odd sensation of caving in when I sit down.
There you have it. One very unexciting post about my couch that recently turned 3. Yesterday’s private, password protected post was for the eyes of the representative at FURNITURE DESIGNER + HIS EX-PARTNER because it contained pictoral and videotaped proof of my defective couch and its poorly fitting (now torn) slipcover. I called to confirm her e-mail address the other day and was on the receiving end of a rather testy woman who seemed a bit put out that I needed her e-mail address again.
I didn’t even mention that the buttons on our tufted headboard have popped out. I don’t want to put anyone out.