The "Couch" Story...
Okay, so here's the famous "couch" story... now for your amusement! FYI... it's really FREAKING long. :) I like to give lots of detail.
It was mid-September, and I had lived in Statesville for about 3 months. And though I was settling into my new apartment, I had not yet purchased a bed or a couch. Okay, let's be honest... I was pretty much always broke, because of my monthly trips to Nashville and other assorted fun things that drained my funds. So I had very little patience to be shopping for several hundreds of dollars worth of furniture. And I didn't really know anyone with a truck.
Eventually Ron caught on to my lack of furnishings, and questioned whether I had failed to make these major purchases because I was spending all my money on visiting him. I was a bit embarrassed... so I swore to myself that I would tear up every thrift store, yard sale, and flea market in the area until I found the items needed to make my home whole... without breaking the bank.
So the next Saturday morning, I headed out with my notebook, measuring tape, camera, and a list of local thrift stores that I had looked up online the night before. As for the yard sales, I had confidence that I could track them down using the brightly colored signs that were displayed on telephone poles.
So hours and hours I spent pouring over old couches and loveseats... most of which smelled like grandmas or looked as though two small children had gone to town on them with milk, markers, the family pet, and scissors. Of course there were a few "gems" that were in good condition... but they were hideously covered and priced as if they were nearly new.
However, fate smiled upon me for a few glimmering moments and I was able to find a queen-sized bed that was in good condition, was priced right, and the store-owner would deliver for free the following Monday.
With my confidence boosted I strolled into the next store, and it seemed as though luck was on my side again... I found a couch for $20!!! More than that, it was in GREAT condition... no wear, no stains, and all the cushions were there and intact as well. And it was big, too... about 8ft. On the negative side it *was* upholstered in an ugly green, white, and red plaid. Like a Santa nerd. But at that cost I decided I would splurge on a nice looking sofa cover from Walmart.
But there was a problem. How the hell was I going to get this mammoth of a couch home, and up to my 2nd floor apartment? Ron, of course, was in Nashville. And I had made the grevious mistake of doing all this on a weekend when both my boss and co-assistant manager were out of town, though I wouldn't have called them unless I was truly desperate anyway. My friend George, as previously mentioned, had just gotten a new girlfriend, and was getting ready to head to her parents' house for dinner. So no help there. There was literally no one else that I could call for help. But I was determined. I had been shopping ALL day. So... I decided I would do it myself... how hard could it be?
Let me say that again, because that is what makes this story the story that it is:
I decided I would do it myself. How hard could it be?
So, I purchased the couch and put the cushions into my car, but left the remainder at the store while I went to get a few supplies. At this point I called James (my ex-boyfriend from Nashville), because he was the one person that I believed knew almost everthing about packing and hauling crap. I've seen him do it about a dozen times... moving me from two homes, traveling with his bike, etc. I asked him what the best way was to get a huge couch back to my house using my car, and he laughed and said, "Um, you like your car, don't you?" I agreed, but said I had no other choice. I told him my plan was to strap it to the top of my car and haul it home that way. At first he recommended that I rent a trailer, but I informed him that the couch only cost me $20, and I was not about to spend $50 to get it home. Then he recommended buying special straps like the ones he used to strap his bike to his trailer when traveling.
After carefully considering his advice, I decided to use rope instead. It was cheap.
At this point I realized the store I had bought the couch from was closing in 30 minutes. So I hurried to Walmart and quickly located the rope. I made my purchase, and off to the thrift store I flew, arriving with only minutes to spare. I asked for help getting it out to my car and luckily the store clerks obliged... they even put it up onto my car roof for me. (Thank God.) I began to weave the rope in and out of my open car doors and over the couch. A girl about my age with small child in a car seat drove up next to me and asked if I needed help. I thanked her and said "no", wishing she had actually been a big burly guy. After tightening the rope and tying it off in two places, I felt it was relatively stable, and I was ready to head out. I nervously closed my doors, snapped a picture for insurance purposes (just in case), and sloooooowwwwwwllllyy pulled out of the parking lot onto the road.
I put on my hazard lights, because I had no intention of going over 20 miles and hour. Of course, if the drivers behind me didn't see the big ass couch on the top of my car, they surely wouldn't have noticed the hazard lights either. Luckily home was only a few miles away. I rolled down my window, reached up, and placed my hand on the side of the couch, so I could feel if it started to slip or move around. It stayed stable the whole time, and as I neared home, I felt some sense of accomplishment. A driver on a motorcycle pulled up beside me and asked if I planned to take it all the way to Tennessee (since I still had TN plates on my car). Smart ass. I smiled and said "no".
I pulled into my parking lot and parked the car, breathing a sigh of relief. I had parked closest to the front entrance of my apartment, but there was still a road and a small hill between me and the building. I cut the ropes that held the couch, and carefully lifted and pulled at it, until I somehow managed to slide it off my car onto the ground without damaging the vehicle.
So how does a 5ft girl get an 8ft couch across a road, down a hill, and up two flights of stairs all by herself?? Well, she flips it end over end, of course.
And that's just what I did. I felt like the women you hear about in the stories when the baby is trapped under a car, and the mothers flip the car over using pure adrenaline and insanity. That was me. I pushed and pulled and shoved that couch all the way across the road, down a small hill, up TWO flights of stairs, all the way to my apartment door. I felt like a champion. Who needed boys???
And then it wouldn't fit through the door.
I tried pulling it in. I tried pushing it in. I tried lifting up the front end. I tried it at an angle. I went and got a stool out of my apartment and propped one end up on it. I pushed and rotated and banged up my door frame and the walls outside the apartment.
I took a break... sweaty and thirsty, to think.
When I went back to work, somehow I finally got the front end in the door. Yay! But my front entrance is like a mini foyer, and there is a wall on the opposite side. So it wouldn't go any further.
Again I turned and I pulled and I yanked and I cursed. At this point I was exhausted, so I tried calling Ron, but he didn't pick up. So I called James once more to explain the situation, to see if he had any suggestions. He said, "And NO ONE has offered to help you? No one?" I said that I hadn't seen anyone pass by, although that wasn't completely true. At one point I saw my neighbor from downstairs that I had never met take his garbage out. But I hid so he couldn't see me. I don't know why... I just didn't want him looking at me like I was crazy. Even though I clearly was.
James told me to send him some pictures, to see if he could figure something out, even though I assured him that I tried every possible way. He called back and said that I needed a second person. I told him no one was available and thanks anyway, and that I was so fed up that I was going to take my $20 loss and pull it to the dumpster.
I started to back the couch out of the apartment... but it was stuck. It wouldn't go anywhere. It wouldn't come back out and it wouldn't go in. THAT my friends was when I cried.
I cried bitterly, cursing the couch and asking God "why", like a person who had lost a loved one.
I sighed, wiped away my tears, and suddenly an ANGEL appeared. Okay, no not really an angel with wings and all that. It was actually just my downstairs neighbor. He walked up the stairs, looked at me, looked at the couch, and looked back at me with disbelief and said, "Are you trying to move that by yourself?!?!?" I smiled and whimpered, "Yes... but it won't fit, so I'm taking it back out to throw it away. But now it won't come back out!" Then, like a knight in shining armor, heroically waltzing in to save the day he said, "Let me help you, I'm sure we can get it in." Tired, miserable, and happy to have someone else there, I said, "Okay... but I think I've tried it all."
So for another 30 minutes we wrestled with it. Rick, as I came to know him, even pulled off the bottom to see if the legs would come off, but they were part of the frame all the way to the top. Finally, after I assured him that I had only spent $20 and that it wasn't worth it, Rick agreed it was not going to go inside the apartment. He asked, "What do you plan to do with it now?" and I told him I was going to take it to the dumpster. He said that they probably wouldn't pick it up, and suggested we take his truck (thank the Lord a man with a truck) and drop it off somewhere. I suggested Goodwill, which was right up the road.
So we loaded the truck, and headed to Goodwill. When we got there, the men inside said they might not take it, because in the process of shoving it into my apartment, and then dragging it back downstairs, it had gotten torn up. We pleaded. So the manager came out, Rick worked his magic, and she agreed to take it.
At that point I was sweaty and exhausted, but incredibly grateful. During the course of meeting Rick I discovered that he moved to Statesville from Texas, and was also relatively alone in town. So I invited him to dinner, because he had been kind enough to help me in my time of desperation.
He and I had an absolute blast all evening, and have been friends since then, though we don't hang out very often. He says that he still tells the story to people at his work from time to time about his neighbor, super woman, who lifted a couch up two flights of stairs by herself.
And the moral of the story?
I still have no couch.
NOTE: Since writing this story, I met one of my neighbor Rick's employees, who is our sales rep at the auction for our carpet and first aid supplies. When I mentioned that I knew his boss, Rick, he said, "Oh, are you the girl he helped to move a couch?! That was crazy." Ah, my fame extends far and wide. Or is it infamy?
It was mid-September, and I had lived in Statesville for about 3 months. And though I was settling into my new apartment, I had not yet purchased a bed or a couch. Okay, let's be honest... I was pretty much always broke, because of my monthly trips to Nashville and other assorted fun things that drained my funds. So I had very little patience to be shopping for several hundreds of dollars worth of furniture. And I didn't really know anyone with a truck.
Eventually Ron caught on to my lack of furnishings, and questioned whether I had failed to make these major purchases because I was spending all my money on visiting him. I was a bit embarrassed... so I swore to myself that I would tear up every thrift store, yard sale, and flea market in the area until I found the items needed to make my home whole... without breaking the bank.
So the next Saturday morning, I headed out with my notebook, measuring tape, camera, and a list of local thrift stores that I had looked up online the night before. As for the yard sales, I had confidence that I could track them down using the brightly colored signs that were displayed on telephone poles.
So hours and hours I spent pouring over old couches and loveseats... most of which smelled like grandmas or looked as though two small children had gone to town on them with milk, markers, the family pet, and scissors. Of course there were a few "gems" that were in good condition... but they were hideously covered and priced as if they were nearly new.
However, fate smiled upon me for a few glimmering moments and I was able to find a queen-sized bed that was in good condition, was priced right, and the store-owner would deliver for free the following Monday.
With my confidence boosted I strolled into the next store, and it seemed as though luck was on my side again... I found a couch for $20!!! More than that, it was in GREAT condition... no wear, no stains, and all the cushions were there and intact as well. And it was big, too... about 8ft. On the negative side it *was* upholstered in an ugly green, white, and red plaid. Like a Santa nerd. But at that cost I decided I would splurge on a nice looking sofa cover from Walmart.
But there was a problem. How the hell was I going to get this mammoth of a couch home, and up to my 2nd floor apartment? Ron, of course, was in Nashville. And I had made the grevious mistake of doing all this on a weekend when both my boss and co-assistant manager were out of town, though I wouldn't have called them unless I was truly desperate anyway. My friend George, as previously mentioned, had just gotten a new girlfriend, and was getting ready to head to her parents' house for dinner. So no help there. There was literally no one else that I could call for help. But I was determined. I had been shopping ALL day. So... I decided I would do it myself... how hard could it be?
Let me say that again, because that is what makes this story the story that it is:
I decided I would do it myself. How hard could it be?
So, I purchased the couch and put the cushions into my car, but left the remainder at the store while I went to get a few supplies. At this point I called James (my ex-boyfriend from Nashville), because he was the one person that I believed knew almost everthing about packing and hauling crap. I've seen him do it about a dozen times... moving me from two homes, traveling with his bike, etc. I asked him what the best way was to get a huge couch back to my house using my car, and he laughed and said, "Um, you like your car, don't you?" I agreed, but said I had no other choice. I told him my plan was to strap it to the top of my car and haul it home that way. At first he recommended that I rent a trailer, but I informed him that the couch only cost me $20, and I was not about to spend $50 to get it home. Then he recommended buying special straps like the ones he used to strap his bike to his trailer when traveling.
After carefully considering his advice, I decided to use rope instead. It was cheap.
At this point I realized the store I had bought the couch from was closing in 30 minutes. So I hurried to Walmart and quickly located the rope. I made my purchase, and off to the thrift store I flew, arriving with only minutes to spare. I asked for help getting it out to my car and luckily the store clerks obliged... they even put it up onto my car roof for me. (Thank God.) I began to weave the rope in and out of my open car doors and over the couch. A girl about my age with small child in a car seat drove up next to me and asked if I needed help. I thanked her and said "no", wishing she had actually been a big burly guy. After tightening the rope and tying it off in two places, I felt it was relatively stable, and I was ready to head out. I nervously closed my doors, snapped a picture for insurance purposes (just in case), and sloooooowwwwwwllllyy pulled out of the parking lot onto the road.
I put on my hazard lights, because I had no intention of going over 20 miles and hour. Of course, if the drivers behind me didn't see the big ass couch on the top of my car, they surely wouldn't have noticed the hazard lights either. Luckily home was only a few miles away. I rolled down my window, reached up, and placed my hand on the side of the couch, so I could feel if it started to slip or move around. It stayed stable the whole time, and as I neared home, I felt some sense of accomplishment. A driver on a motorcycle pulled up beside me and asked if I planned to take it all the way to Tennessee (since I still had TN plates on my car). Smart ass. I smiled and said "no".
I pulled into my parking lot and parked the car, breathing a sigh of relief. I had parked closest to the front entrance of my apartment, but there was still a road and a small hill between me and the building. I cut the ropes that held the couch, and carefully lifted and pulled at it, until I somehow managed to slide it off my car onto the ground without damaging the vehicle.
So how does a 5ft girl get an 8ft couch across a road, down a hill, and up two flights of stairs all by herself?? Well, she flips it end over end, of course.
And that's just what I did. I felt like the women you hear about in the stories when the baby is trapped under a car, and the mothers flip the car over using pure adrenaline and insanity. That was me. I pushed and pulled and shoved that couch all the way across the road, down a small hill, up TWO flights of stairs, all the way to my apartment door. I felt like a champion. Who needed boys???
And then it wouldn't fit through the door.
I tried pulling it in. I tried pushing it in. I tried lifting up the front end. I tried it at an angle. I went and got a stool out of my apartment and propped one end up on it. I pushed and rotated and banged up my door frame and the walls outside the apartment.
I took a break... sweaty and thirsty, to think.
When I went back to work, somehow I finally got the front end in the door. Yay! But my front entrance is like a mini foyer, and there is a wall on the opposite side. So it wouldn't go any further.
Again I turned and I pulled and I yanked and I cursed. At this point I was exhausted, so I tried calling Ron, but he didn't pick up. So I called James once more to explain the situation, to see if he had any suggestions. He said, "And NO ONE has offered to help you? No one?" I said that I hadn't seen anyone pass by, although that wasn't completely true. At one point I saw my neighbor from downstairs that I had never met take his garbage out. But I hid so he couldn't see me. I don't know why... I just didn't want him looking at me like I was crazy. Even though I clearly was.
James told me to send him some pictures, to see if he could figure something out, even though I assured him that I tried every possible way. He called back and said that I needed a second person. I told him no one was available and thanks anyway, and that I was so fed up that I was going to take my $20 loss and pull it to the dumpster.
I started to back the couch out of the apartment... but it was stuck. It wouldn't go anywhere. It wouldn't come back out and it wouldn't go in. THAT my friends was when I cried.
I cried bitterly, cursing the couch and asking God "why", like a person who had lost a loved one.
I sighed, wiped away my tears, and suddenly an ANGEL appeared. Okay, no not really an angel with wings and all that. It was actually just my downstairs neighbor. He walked up the stairs, looked at me, looked at the couch, and looked back at me with disbelief and said, "Are you trying to move that by yourself?!?!?" I smiled and whimpered, "Yes... but it won't fit, so I'm taking it back out to throw it away. But now it won't come back out!" Then, like a knight in shining armor, heroically waltzing in to save the day he said, "Let me help you, I'm sure we can get it in." Tired, miserable, and happy to have someone else there, I said, "Okay... but I think I've tried it all."
So for another 30 minutes we wrestled with it. Rick, as I came to know him, even pulled off the bottom to see if the legs would come off, but they were part of the frame all the way to the top. Finally, after I assured him that I had only spent $20 and that it wasn't worth it, Rick agreed it was not going to go inside the apartment. He asked, "What do you plan to do with it now?" and I told him I was going to take it to the dumpster. He said that they probably wouldn't pick it up, and suggested we take his truck (thank the Lord a man with a truck) and drop it off somewhere. I suggested Goodwill, which was right up the road.
So we loaded the truck, and headed to Goodwill. When we got there, the men inside said they might not take it, because in the process of shoving it into my apartment, and then dragging it back downstairs, it had gotten torn up. We pleaded. So the manager came out, Rick worked his magic, and she agreed to take it.
At that point I was sweaty and exhausted, but incredibly grateful. During the course of meeting Rick I discovered that he moved to Statesville from Texas, and was also relatively alone in town. So I invited him to dinner, because he had been kind enough to help me in my time of desperation.
He and I had an absolute blast all evening, and have been friends since then, though we don't hang out very often. He says that he still tells the story to people at his work from time to time about his neighbor, super woman, who lifted a couch up two flights of stairs by herself.
And the moral of the story?
I still have no couch.
NOTE: Since writing this story, I met one of my neighbor Rick's employees, who is our sales rep at the auction for our carpet and first aid supplies. When I mentioned that I knew his boss, Rick, he said, "Oh, are you the girl he helped to move a couch?! That was crazy." Ah, my fame extends far and wide. Or is it infamy?