When James and I were first married, we had a floral print couch that had been passed down from oldlyweds to newlyweds for several generations. We didn't want to spring for a slip cover, mostly because it seemed wrong when the couch was worth so much less than the cover. We did, however, have a huge white blanket that served almost as well for the year we lived in that apartment. When we moved, we decided there was no way the couch would accompany us. Some things just are not better than having nothing.
Luckily, James' great aunt and uncle had a couch they wanted to give us. It was a big improvement to the 70's style one we didn't miss at all. This "new" couch came to us well loved, and since then has become even more loved. There is a bar where the sectional/recliner part detaches, and if you lay across the couch the bar settles nicely into your shoulder blades. The other end of the couch is all but flat from missing fluff (Jonathan has spent the better part of his life ruining this section) and is hopelessly misshapen. Anyway, as I said before, some things just are not better than having nothing. This couch is almost to the point of being a perfect example. Every Monday night day James and I exchange knowing looks and try to talk each other out of bringing it out to the curb.
One morning we decided to go to the Scratch and Dent furniture store in Liverpool. We don't want to spend a lot on a couch right now, mostly because we don't want to take it with us when we eventually move, so it seemed like the perfect solution. We decided to leave first thing in the morning to capitalize on the small window of time when the boys are not hungry or tired. We arrived at the store 2 minutes after it opened. Great. Now we not only look desperate and poor, we also will be the ONLY people in the store, and look like we plan our lives around the exciting trip to a FURNITURE STORE! Like we sat all morning looking at the clock. "Is it open, is it open? Time to go yet? Please, please?" We sighed and piled our little guys into the double stroller. The boys looked pretty cute, minus the frizzy head of Ethan Spencer No-Haircut Gage (that will be a separate post) and Jonathan's sour expression at being confined to a stroller. Said stroller only lasted a couple of minutes, and we had to ask the man at the service desk if we could leave it there for a little while. I wish I could have captured his expression.
We wandered into the back room and went up and down aisles of couches, losing little boys and little boy shoes. In the course of our adventure, James and I discovered that we have entirely different tastes in living room furniture. I do remember that James stopped at one of the nicer couches, and turned to look at me. "What about this one?" "Really, James?! I love it!" His face soured. "How could you love it? It's hideous!"
It was about this time that Ethan decided to dive head first off the couch, just as the salesperson walked through the door to see how we were doing. He left just as a little stream began running down Jonathan's leg and onto the floor (Wegman's be thanked for the wet wipes I had in my purse). The boys were all but crying, mom and dad were trying not to scream, and when we finally piled into our warm car, the power windows stopped working. What a day for a daydream.
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