It's the boyfriend here. Hayley has been asking me to do a post for ages I have been putting it off since ages. So here it is. The subject: A Greenish Couch. It's a longish story.
Hayley and I acquired our first couch together (romantic, I know) about a month before we moved. A loveseat with a pullout for special guests. Olive green velvet, nice! With those dimply buttons in the back cushions that all great couches must have. Also, like any good pullout couch, it was uncomfortable and impossibly heavy. And it had wheels!
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Pictured - Special Guests enjoying the comforts of the couch, in sit mode and in lie down mode
So it was moved to the city (thanks, dad) and then up the fire escape to our third floor apartment (thanks, friends), body checked through a few narrow doorways and gingerly placed in its final resting place. It was a terrible thing to have to move. One person barfed during the ordeal, something to do with skipping breakfast. I thought to myself, there will be a day when I will recall this arduous and pukey ordeal, and I will come up with a clever plan to avoid a repeat.
We sat on that couch for eleven months. Not constantly, of course, but when we didn't want to stand. During the summer I covered it with my old car blanket because the velvet would stick to my bare back, and I didn't want the couch smelling like back sweat. My back would sweat because the apartment was stifling, and sweating is something I came up with to cool my back. In August my uncle very graciously bought us a portable air conditioner, so I was able to drop that filthy habit forever.
When we were preparing to move to our new apartment this past March, we decided that we were done with sitting and would dispose of the couch. Recalling the arduous and pukey ordeal 11 months prior, I knew that I needed a clever plan to rid myself of the velvet monstrosity. My first course of action was to put off any further planning. This first step came to fruition a few weeks later, one Wednesday evening.
If you recall, Phase One came to fruition on Wednesday evening. The new tenant for the old apartment called me and said, "Handsome, on Friday morning I would like to get the keys to my new apartment, if its all the same to you," to which I replied, "Okay". After that we agreed to hang up. But the couch! It was still in the old apartment! Ah yes, my plan was going swimmingly.
So I went back to Deer Park to deal with the couch. I had no one to help me move it down the stairs, so I busted it up into pieces that I could drag around by myself. I used a screwdriver for the screws and a saw for bits that needed sawing (I include these details for anyone hoping to replicate this technique). Hayley was getting her tattoo at Yonge and Eglinton that day, so she came and met me and I watched her get poked with needles. After that she returned home because she knows that I work better alone plus I embarrass her. So it was time for Phase Three.
Phase Three of my plan (Phase Two being Operation: Velvety Dismemberment) was to stealthily cartwheel the couch bits down the fire escape, sneakily push the bits across Yonge Street and down Pleasant Boulevard, and inconspicuously toss the bits into a nearby highrise building's open ended dumpster. I decided to carry out Phase Three at 6pm, since everyone would be inside eating their dinner. I piled all the couch bits on the intact base, which had four wheels, one in each corner. While I stood on the west side of Yonge, I noted that everyone must be late for dinner, because they were all in their cars and honking at each other. When a break in the current of vehicles presented itself, I scurried across the street pushing the pile of couch bits.
During this sojourn I suppose I looked like a homeless person carting some supplies to my camp in the nearby ravine, because why else would someone be in this situation?
I approached the dumpster with growing anticipation, what if the building's superintendent should arrive just as I'm committing the act? It turns out it was just my nerves making me paranoid, the superintendent arrived before I started the disposal. Thank goodness.
So she says to me, "Darling, if you're planning on dumping those couch bits, and not carting them to your makeshift abode in the ravine, then you better not 'cause people try this every day and we show the footage to the police, and they do not rest when a couch bits dumper is on the loose", to which I replied, "Okay". The superintendent entered the building, leaving me on the curb to sit on my pile of couch, even though I had given up sitting weeks ago.
I thought to myself, the police can't possibly bother to track me down, even if there is camera footage. Even if the Superintendent yells at me, I could just walk away. So I thought about it for a bit and decided to go for it. I would zip around the corner, hurl the bits into the dumpster, and leave, perfect! I'll go after this car passes, I thought. There's a man and a dog, better wait for him to get out of sight. Also that old lady looks suspicious, she can't be a witness. After this Ford Explorer, then I'll go. But the Ford stopped, facing me, fifteen metres away, and the driver put on the four-way flashers.
A spy! Of course, these places always have a man on the ground. It began to rain. How cinematic. So, it would be a standoff then, a battle of wits. Time passed, stretching out like a rubber band being stretched. The Ford's yellow-orange turn signals blinked stubbornly, like it was trying to clear the raindrops from its eyes, or like when someone puts their four ways on to tell other drivers that they are not moving so be cautious and don't hit me please. The seconds ticked by. After six hundred of these increments, the Ford and its hidden driver remained resolutely parked. To the falling rain, I replied, "Okay". I knew I was beat.
I began pushing the couch bits back up Pleasant Boulevard. The dark blue Ford Explorer passed me. The driver did not peel out or anything. Too obvious, I thought. He was good. My jumble of couch refuse was growing increasingly jumbled, trails of velvet trailing in growing puddles of water made by the wet rain. Twice or thrice I stopped to reconfigure the mess of cushions and to put the white plastic wheels back in their places after they had been knocked off by cracks and potholes. Not suited for this terrain, I suppose. Shame on the manufacturer for their lack of foresight. I put the bits back into the alley behind the building I had recently left after eleven months of habitation. This will be my second last time here, I thought. It was darker now and raining still. I had to move some jugs of used fry oil to get the stuff through the narrow space, some of it left dark patches on my coat sleeve. I left the alley, sweating, oiled, and with cool rain on my face. Well, I thought, we've all been here.
1-800-GOT-JUNK removed my couch bits the next morning for $120.00. I met them at 8am. An hour later I met the property manager and the new tenant and I turned over the keys to the apartment. We stood in the kitchen, examining the empty place. I went home to Hayley and the new apartment.
You can see the couch there, on the right near the middle. See its velvety moss coloured sheen! Also pictured is the treacherous two storey flight of slippy stairs, barrels of used oil, garbage bins, and monuments to the dead.
Hayley and I acquired our first couch together (romantic, I know) about a month before we moved. A loveseat with a pullout for special guests. Olive green velvet, nice! With those dimply buttons in the back cushions that all great couches must have. Also, like any good pullout couch, it was uncomfortable and impossibly heavy. And it had wheels!
Pictured - Special Guests enjoying the comforts of the couch, in sit mode and in lie down mode
So it was moved to the city (thanks, dad) and then up the fire escape to our third floor apartment (thanks, friends), body checked through a few narrow doorways and gingerly placed in its final resting place. It was a terrible thing to have to move. One person barfed during the ordeal, something to do with skipping breakfast. I thought to myself, there will be a day when I will recall this arduous and pukey ordeal, and I will come up with a clever plan to avoid a repeat.
We sat on that couch for eleven months. Not constantly, of course, but when we didn't want to stand. During the summer I covered it with my old car blanket because the velvet would stick to my bare back, and I didn't want the couch smelling like back sweat. My back would sweat because the apartment was stifling, and sweating is something I came up with to cool my back. In August my uncle very graciously bought us a portable air conditioner, so I was able to drop that filthy habit forever.
When we were preparing to move to our new apartment this past March, we decided that we were done with sitting and would dispose of the couch. Recalling the arduous and pukey ordeal 11 months prior, I knew that I needed a clever plan to rid myself of the velvet monstrosity. My first course of action was to put off any further planning. This first step came to fruition a few weeks later, one Wednesday evening.
If you recall, Phase One came to fruition on Wednesday evening. The new tenant for the old apartment called me and said, "Handsome, on Friday morning I would like to get the keys to my new apartment, if its all the same to you," to which I replied, "Okay". After that we agreed to hang up. But the couch! It was still in the old apartment! Ah yes, my plan was going swimmingly.
So I went back to Deer Park to deal with the couch. I had no one to help me move it down the stairs, so I busted it up into pieces that I could drag around by myself. I used a screwdriver for the screws and a saw for bits that needed sawing (I include these details for anyone hoping to replicate this technique). Hayley was getting her tattoo at Yonge and Eglinton that day, so she came and met me and I watched her get poked with needles. After that she returned home because she knows that I work better alone plus I embarrass her. So it was time for Phase Three.
Phase Three of my plan (Phase Two being Operation: Velvety Dismemberment) was to stealthily cartwheel the couch bits down the fire escape, sneakily push the bits across Yonge Street and down Pleasant Boulevard, and inconspicuously toss the bits into a nearby highrise building's open ended dumpster. I decided to carry out Phase Three at 6pm, since everyone would be inside eating their dinner. I piled all the couch bits on the intact base, which had four wheels, one in each corner. While I stood on the west side of Yonge, I noted that everyone must be late for dinner, because they were all in their cars and honking at each other. When a break in the current of vehicles presented itself, I scurried across the street pushing the pile of couch bits.
During this sojourn I suppose I looked like a homeless person carting some supplies to my camp in the nearby ravine, because why else would someone be in this situation?
I approached the dumpster with growing anticipation, what if the building's superintendent should arrive just as I'm committing the act? It turns out it was just my nerves making me paranoid, the superintendent arrived before I started the disposal. Thank goodness.
So she says to me, "Darling, if you're planning on dumping those couch bits, and not carting them to your makeshift abode in the ravine, then you better not 'cause people try this every day and we show the footage to the police, and they do not rest when a couch bits dumper is on the loose", to which I replied, "Okay". The superintendent entered the building, leaving me on the curb to sit on my pile of couch, even though I had given up sitting weeks ago.
I thought to myself, the police can't possibly bother to track me down, even if there is camera footage. Even if the Superintendent yells at me, I could just walk away. So I thought about it for a bit and decided to go for it. I would zip around the corner, hurl the bits into the dumpster, and leave, perfect! I'll go after this car passes, I thought. There's a man and a dog, better wait for him to get out of sight. Also that old lady looks suspicious, she can't be a witness. After this Ford Explorer, then I'll go. But the Ford stopped, facing me, fifteen metres away, and the driver put on the four-way flashers.
A spy! Of course, these places always have a man on the ground. It began to rain. How cinematic. So, it would be a standoff then, a battle of wits. Time passed, stretching out like a rubber band being stretched. The Ford's yellow-orange turn signals blinked stubbornly, like it was trying to clear the raindrops from its eyes, or like when someone puts their four ways on to tell other drivers that they are not moving so be cautious and don't hit me please. The seconds ticked by. After six hundred of these increments, the Ford and its hidden driver remained resolutely parked. To the falling rain, I replied, "Okay". I knew I was beat.
I began pushing the couch bits back up Pleasant Boulevard. The dark blue Ford Explorer passed me. The driver did not peel out or anything. Too obvious, I thought. He was good. My jumble of couch refuse was growing increasingly jumbled, trails of velvet trailing in growing puddles of water made by the wet rain. Twice or thrice I stopped to reconfigure the mess of cushions and to put the white plastic wheels back in their places after they had been knocked off by cracks and potholes. Not suited for this terrain, I suppose. Shame on the manufacturer for their lack of foresight. I put the bits back into the alley behind the building I had recently left after eleven months of habitation. This will be my second last time here, I thought. It was darker now and raining still. I had to move some jugs of used fry oil to get the stuff through the narrow space, some of it left dark patches on my coat sleeve. I left the alley, sweating, oiled, and with cool rain on my face. Well, I thought, we've all been here.
1-800-GOT-JUNK removed my couch bits the next morning for $120.00. I met them at 8am. An hour later I met the property manager and the new tenant and I turned over the keys to the apartment. We stood in the kitchen, examining the empty place. I went home to Hayley and the new apartment.
You can see the couch there, on the right near the middle. See its velvety moss coloured sheen! Also pictured is the treacherous two storey flight of slippy stairs, barrels of used oil, garbage bins, and monuments to the dead.
too funny AJ.!!! Great story teller.....I could see you as you described this ordeal - hilarious (I'm sure not at the time it was happening, but it sure is the way you tell it now)
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