Here it is, the monstrosity that is the old couch. Obviously, it has E on it, and, as you can see, we still don’t have a coffee table. What are we, eighteen? No. Just really lazy.
You may notice the couch is slipcovered. It has to be, even though the slipcover is the bane of my existence as it has to be straightened out eighty seven times a day. The upholstery is so ugly it makes me want to weep in shame and horror.
Manufactured some time in the ’70s, this couch’s history comes to light, for me, in the 80′s in Oshawa, where it was in Toby Hughes’ frat house. I do not like to think of its existence back then. The cooties leave me shuddering.
When Toby moved to Vancouver in the early 90s to start his professional career as a saxophonist, bartender, and mayhem-causer, the couch came with him. It was at this point that E became acquainted with the couch, as they all used to sit on it for Movie Night, which featured a) no girls b) lots of beer c) bad movies d) more beer e) running out of beer and starting on whiskey and f) passing out at sunrise.
For a time, the couch was at Tim Doody’s place, probably when Toby’s girlfriend Sue was living with him, and she probably had a nicer couch than this one. But then they broke up and Toby got the couch back. I think this was around 1998.
When I moved out in 2000, Toby was moving to Toronto to liven them up out there. So Scott put the couch in the back of his truck and we took it to my new place.
It was supposed to be a stopgap. It was supposed to be until-I-get-some-money. It was supposed to be gone by now.
And tomorrow, we are borrowing Scott’s pickup to bring a new couch home, one that doesn’t have frat cooties. And then we are taking the old couch to the dump.
I feel a little bad about it. The couch hasn’t done anything to deserve my animosity. It has served us faithfully as a couch. Even after all those years of experience, it is still serviceable. But serviceable or not, it goes tomorrow!
I’m so excited!