Yep, another day in the storage unit. I might as well live there. At least that would save living expenses. Anyway, this time it was to deal with the couch. Yes, that couch.
The couch of renown. The infamous, giant couch. Yes, so large, Paul Bunyan was scared of it. This is sectional couch from the throwback era of livin' large. It has more sections than I have gripes. Whoa, man is it big.
So when a good friend of mine told me she had a charity that would take this couch, I was excited. This would mean I could get one more thing off my To Do list done, as well as help some people. Ultimately, this would put me one step closer to getting rid of my storage unit all together.
Well, it almost got me one step closer to prison. Yep, murder. In the end I almost threw the couch off a cliff. Now, you may be wondering just which cliff I meant. And that's why it's murder and not an act of rage, because I would have had to drive a few hours to find an appropriate cliff. Good thing I had the day off.
It all started at birth. Some kind of mythical curse. Oh wait, that's some other guy.
Well, for me it started by leaving a cushion on my porch. I made the arrangements with the charity for pickup. I got over there early so I could get the couch out of the unit and accessible. This alone was a battle I almost wasn't up for. It turns out the only way to get this anaconda of a couch in a small space involves jamming and wedging. So much so I couldn't get it back out.
Then with the grunting, and pushing, and cursing. Add in some shoulder pain, movement of other stuff and some holes in the wall, and it makes for a long afternoon. Finally it's out. Like I berthed Babe herself. Now all I have to do is wait for the guys.
I go up to the office and find them. Cool, let's get on with it. They pull up and want to check it out. So me and one guy put it all in a line, all pretty like. The other guy just stands there watching. Then the first guy notices it's not complete, missing a cushion.
I call home to get Susan to bring it to me. I tell the man I can go get it and be back. He says he can't wait and he can't take it. Then he says he's got to go to Holly Springs. I tell him my house is literally on the way (Tryon to Lake Wheeler to Penny to Holly Springs Rd). He won't do it.
I'm flabbergasted. And tired. And frankly, a bit pissed off. Now I can't get it back in the unit because I've already moved all the other stuff back in and I think I've hurt my shoulder again anyway. Luckily the Salvation Army is down the road.
Now my idea is to get the storage place's truck to cart this down to the SA. This guy offers to wait and help me load it at least. Which is a nice gesture, but the same amount of time it would have taken me to go home and return. Ugh. Fine. I'll go get the truck.
Or not. The staff guy won't let me take it. He's not authorized for such stuff and doesn't want to do the paperwork. Ugh. Thankfully I was desperate enough to get my tits out and whine to the guy. I'm nothing if not a sad, pathetic-looking tiny, little man - and I'll use that to get people to give me a break.
So after I got the mascara out of my eyes, I was off in the truck. Amazingly the darling duo was still there and the one guy helped me load it (the other guy still wouldn't budge). Then I'm off to the SA, still pissed. I get there and those 2 guys tried to help, but both had bad backs. Unbelievable.
I'm done there and back with the truck. All smiles to our man in the shop and then Susan shows up with the cushion. Back to SA, get my receipt and say a cleansing prayer so I never have to pay homage to the giant couch again.
Now all I have to do is put together a spring-loaded table while staving off a giant lab and a crazy pit bull. Looks like I picked the wrong week to not visit the moon again (yeah, like they can do that).