Death Knell for a Couch

Remember how Bean cut the couch open? Well, since then, its been an ongoing slow death spiral, as the duct tape (aw yeah!) got peeled off, and the slices in the leather were slowly lengthened as little hands and feet found themselves unable to resist the temptation to pull and push just a little more. Each night I would go downstairs and there would be more and more couch fluff on the ground, the stairs, the bookshelves, the laundry…

What was once a fine, leather L-shaped sectional now resembles nothing so much an an eviscerated Taun Taun in the snow. I stood in the doorway trying to decided what to do. The thing is big- and its beyond all hope- truly. The dump or a bonfire is the only destination for it now, but there’s no way I can get it out of the basement myself. So I got drastic.

I had a guest room downstairs. In a moment of what I can only call brilliant inspiration, but my kids would probably call Mom-Going-Crazy, I moved everything out of both the family room and the guest room (except the Taun Taun) and started from scratch. After several hours, and untold trash sacks, the guest room is still a guest room, but it’s now also the Wii and play room. I moved the TV armoire and all electronics into the guest room, and then dumped every single bin of toys in a giant pile on the floor and set to work culling and tossing. It took all night, but as of right now…

Instead of a tv room and a play room, we have one usable, clean, well organized room. The Taun Taun is alone, behind a closed, locked door, with a few other storage items, but no longer contributing the temptation of its fluff to curious hands and clogging vacuums. At some point, I’ll get someone over to help me get it’s carcass on a bonfire. Taun Taun has given up the ghost.

Now how long before Bean decides he has to see what’s in the mattress in the guest room?

5 thoughts on “Death Knell for a Couch

  1. Oh!! My brother did that when I was a kid! One year, for Christmas, I received a sewing kit. He. found. it. Turns out that a seam ripper will make quick work of a pound puppy, a comforter, sheets and a mattress (one swipe through all that bedding, apparently!) and a crochet hook in the hands of a four year old…can rip a brand new leather couch. There was a 3″ rip in the back…mom ended up buying some upholstery needles and sewing it up. R. didn’t get allowance for a year. Every week, dad would line us up. “Here’s for you, and you, and you, and…R, you don’t get any. Why?” “Because I ripped the couch…and my bed…and my sister’s toy…and my sheets.” “Good.”

    52 weeks. πŸ˜‰

  2. Sometimes those things just feel so good to get done. It may not be immediately or desperately necessary but the sense of accomplishment and the purging and bringing to order one small part of your home (aka your life) feels so freeing and satisfying! Glad you got to do it πŸ™‚

Comments are closed.