When I got married, I moved into my husband’s apartment. He had a couch. I couldn’t tell you where it came from.
We bought his brother’s house and moved in. His brother left everything including his couch so we had a dilemma. One of the couches had to go.
My mother was getting new furniture and gave us her couch on a whim.
My mother in law moved in and we needed a bed in the living room so we used a daybed as a couch.
We moved across the Bay and my mother gave us her couch. Again, on a whim.
We moved to a much smaller place so we bought his co worker’s old couch.
Then he moved out. He didn’t take the couch with him but I’d secretly hated that couch and feeling a fierce streak of independence, I went to the thrift store.
I bought a used, oddly shaped, black pleather couch that everyone instantly hated. But tucked back in the corner was something amazing.
It didn’t have a place and it didn’t go with anything, but I purchased a pink loveseat for 69 cents simply because I could. It felt amazing.
The couch everyone hated didn’t last long. Out by the dumpster was a beautiful green couch that was perfect. Heaving it up the stairs was a full time job.
A green couch and a pink love seat, a papasan, a green chair and ottoman, a red ottoman, a leather chair, and another patterned chair we found by the dumpster all found homes inside my tiny apartment.
I loved it.
I loved every single bit of it because I picked it or it picked me. People would come over and instantly know that I absolutely do not have my shit together, I’m making it up as I go, but I’m also whimsical and fun.
Then I moved back across the Bay. I left most of the furniture with my ex. My friend gave me his old couch that had a sleeper. Neither the couch nor the sleeper were comfortable. We often took off the cushions just to attempt to find a comfortable spot.
I bought a couch from my daughter’s friend. It was huge. It was gigantic. My daughter and niece maneuvered this monster couch down two flights of stairs. But this couch was so comfortable and I liked it.
I assumed this would be my couch for a good long while. Until disaster ruined the couch and I was back to square one.
My cousin was moving and gave us his love seat. It sits two people. We made due with haphazard seating arrangements.
The love seat broke. Not a little and we can deal with it kinda broke, but broke broke.
It’s been a journey. But much like life, these couches just happened to me. Or I was desperately running to the thrift store. It was very much opportunity meeting desperation.
But I went to a friend of mine’s house and she has this beautifully decorated, half painted living room with a couch and a giant bean bag chair. As much as her house is a work in progress, the nonchalant way she has of going slow and finding pieces and colors that she loves is really inspiring to me.
So for the last few weeks, I’ve been combing furniture stores. The topic of couches has been constant and overwhelming.
As soon as I saw this couch I got excited. I sat and laid, and curled up on the end. I took my shoes off and had Middle and Youngest snuggle with me. I looked at the back and the sides. I haggled the price. We went across the street and had coffee to discuss.
See… this is a brand new couch. It’s expensive. It’s an investment.
I don’t deserve a brand new couch. I’m the girl that takes what’s given to her and doesn’t complain. I say thank you and am grateful for dumpster couches and thrift store couches. I appreciate that someone wants to give me their old couch. Truly, I’d be sitting on the floor if it weren’t for the generosity of people that love me or a thrift store.
But this? I don’t deserve this. It’s brand new. No one has ever owned this. It was just delivered to the showroom floor, tucked in the back corner, waiting.
I had to have my girls convince me that it is okay to purchase. It’s double what I wanted to pay and way bigger than I planned.
But maybe I do deserve this couch that no one else has owned.
Maybe I deserve this. I hope so.
Because thinking of taking a nap on this couch makes me happy.
It’s being delivered tomorrow.