Between Patrick and I we owned 6 couches. Of course we were going to keep my 3 couches and get rid of Patrick’s. I’m no dummy. I’m the original owner of all my couches. I know their history. Patrick’s couches were like a giant science project and I wanted nothing to do with them.
Patrick agreed to get rid of one before we got married, but he really “liked” the other two. He knew they were ugly but did not care. They were “comfortable.” Now let me tell you a little something about these couches. Sure they matched and were in fairly decent shape, but they were the ugliest print ever and he bought them off of craig’s list years ago so who knows what’s living in them. I decided to take one for the team and agreed to keep them as long as I could reupholster them.
So there we are, driving down the freeway at top speeds, moving the couches into our new house when Patrick turns into a sailor and words start flying. I’m completely puzzled as he’s pulling over to the right hand lane. Apparently one of the couch cushions had flown out of the truck and went bouncing off cars down the freeway. Patrick was ticked, but I saw it as an answer to prayer. Now I was only stuck with one ugly couch because it was a seat cushion we lost.
I was so happy. Nature did not even want these couches in my house and it was all going to be fine. Later that day we looped back down the freeway and what do you know, that little cushion had made it to the bushes. The cover was torn to shreds, but there it was. I got a pretty good laugh watching Patrick run down the side of the freeway to fetch the dang thing.
Fast forward to 3 months later and you have one couch complete with one more to go. (I should mention the color in this images sucks. I took it on my phone, but you get the idea)