Henry Sofa from West Elm
If you know me, you know my couch saga. If you've read my blog for two years, followed me on Instagram, talked to me at work, been my friend, you know my couch saga. If you're innocently stumbling along this post then you might not know it, so I'm telling it, for old time's sake.
When Ben and I moved into our first apartment together in Tacoma, we were furniture-less. We came from a college house with one chair, an old mattress without a boxspring or bed frame, and an Ikea "lack" coffee table. I am convinced that "lack" stood for the lack of quality of that coffee table. We slowly started to acquire furniture here and there (antiquing, World Market). For weeks, though, we were without a couch. We used to sit on the floor of the living room, backs against the wall, or in the one camp chair we had. It was miserable. And so one day, we bought a couch off of Craigslist from someone that'd had it for a year, was selling it for $100, and would deliver to our house.
Online, this couch looked just fine. It was tannish, the color that would match our white and light wood apartment. It was a two-seater, perfect for the space. It was being delivered. When I got home from work that day after it was delivered, I felt a kind of shock and horror at seeing it in the living room in its bare, horrible glory. It was not really tannish but brownish grey. It was not really a two seater but a behemoth of a couch that was so overstuffed that it only seated two. And the couch had the shape of an old sock full of cotton balls. I also experienced the "buying a couch off of Craigslist" disgust at the fact that someone had lounged around in it for a year. Ick.
But it was our couch. And we had no money to buy a new couch and so I hid it with blankets, with side tables next to it, with a rug underneath it, by hiding it in dark corners, with throw pillows. I sat on it all the time to avoid seeing it. And we had that couch for TWO WHOLE YEARS.
And I say again, if you knew/know/have heard of me. You've heard me rage about burning it, destroying it, getting rid of it in the street and sitting on the floor. Well, this move and my savings account finally allowed me to say "be gone!" to the couch from hell. This West Elm beauty was delivered this week and I'm over the moon. It's a dream. Structured, grey, beautiful, velvet. Welcome to my world, pretty couch. Let's be together forever.
(The old one is in the garage right now waiting to die. If anyone needs a hideous lump of a couch that brings misfortune, call me!)
Online, this couch looked just fine. It was tannish, the color that would match our white and light wood apartment. It was a two-seater, perfect for the space. It was being delivered. When I got home from work that day after it was delivered, I felt a kind of shock and horror at seeing it in the living room in its bare, horrible glory. It was not really tannish but brownish grey. It was not really a two seater but a behemoth of a couch that was so overstuffed that it only seated two. And the couch had the shape of an old sock full of cotton balls. I also experienced the "buying a couch off of Craigslist" disgust at the fact that someone had lounged around in it for a year. Ick.
But it was our couch. And we had no money to buy a new couch and so I hid it with blankets, with side tables next to it, with a rug underneath it, by hiding it in dark corners, with throw pillows. I sat on it all the time to avoid seeing it. And we had that couch for TWO WHOLE YEARS.
And I say again, if you knew/know/have heard of me. You've heard me rage about burning it, destroying it, getting rid of it in the street and sitting on the floor. Well, this move and my savings account finally allowed me to say "be gone!" to the couch from hell. This West Elm beauty was delivered this week and I'm over the moon. It's a dream. Structured, grey, beautiful, velvet. Welcome to my world, pretty couch. Let's be together forever.
(The old one is in the garage right now waiting to die. If anyone needs a hideous lump of a couch that brings misfortune, call me!)