Sofa spuds

On Wednesday, we were on our way to the lawyer’s office when my husband, Laurence, commented, “Did you notice there’s a couch in the back of our van?” I replied, “Yep!”

“Oh,” he said, and didn’t bother to ask “Why?” He knew the answer. But maybe you don’t so let me try to explain.

We have always had used couches. I made a decision when my kids were little that I was not going to worry about the fixings, and when something got a little too sour or stained, we’d simply replace it with a “new” old one. And I can tell you, by the time our couch or chair made it to the end of the driveway for garbage night, no one would want it. I expect even the garbage truck operators wanted to put in a call to the toxic taxi service.

When most of our kids had left home, my hubby decided he wanted, for once in his life, to have NEW furniture. So when the last piece of the then current furniture was removed, along with all the potato chips, pet fur, ancient remote controls, and toys, we set a date for picking some out.

We drove around to many furniture stores. Many. And finally chose something that looked remarkably like what we had just pitched – minus a few layers of dirt and plus more material on it. We had it delivered – a nice change from hauling and slugging - and then we took turns sitting on it. We felt like we had arrived; this is how normal families do things.

Then, in an urge to keep the furniture in its pristine state, I covered the cushions with plastic tablecloths and put a furniture cover on each item. The effect? It looked slightly worse than the old set and was twice as uncomfortable to sit on – one could easily slide off the couch and the couch sheets always looked crumpled. So we decided, “Oh what the heck. You only live once. Remove the covers!” And we did.

We ought to have waited.

Before I tell you what happened next, you need to know that at the time we had three old dogs – one of whom ate everything she could find in the yard, and one of whom had some continence problems. Plus we had and still have set-in-their-ways cats – with working claws AND the need to occasionally establish territory.

Yes, within a few months, Pudge threw up an entire backyard’s worth of crap on the couch, and I forgot to give Mercy her “pee-pee” pill and pull up the water after six. So she ended up soaking the love seat. The stench and stains were permanent. Off to the end of the driveway for them. (The couch and love seat, not the dogs.)

We kept the chair for a little longer – but months of shredding by the cats and being sprayed with “cat-off” to prevent urine marking, took its toll. It joined its furniture siblings.

We were living room furniture minimalists for a while until this past Monday, when I went driving by my favourite furniture shop – Surplus Liquidators. I picked out the least ugly love seat they had and the lads popped it into my van. That was the easy part. The hard part was going to be getting it into the house. It’s not just that it was heavy, it’s that Laur is couch-resistant. He can’t bear the idea of going shopping again for furniture, given our most recent experience, but he also objects to having used furniture.

Wednesday afternoon we – Laur and I – hauled the thing into the house. Not because Laur wanted it, but because he couldn’t see out of the vehicle. We did manage to drop it a few times on our way inside the house. Fortunately, no animals were injured in this funniest-home-videos like episode.

Why, by the way, were Laur and I going to the lawyer’s in the first place? You might understand if it was for divorce. But, nah! It was for updating our wills. For sure we are not leaving any items in particular for our kids. Trust me, by the time we are finished with our accumulated bits and pieces, none of them will want any of it.

Jan Carrie Steven is a volunteer with Cat Adoption Trust Sudbury (CATS) and the co-ordinator of Small Things: Cats, Books & Gifts. For more information, go to www.smallthings.ca.