|It seems my family has a thing for couches. Awhile back I told you about the ugliest couch in the world and how my mom had gotten a new couch. She didn’t pick it out, my sister did, thus requiring removal of the old couch and so this is where the story begins.
Different state, different house, different couch…same story.
My mom was beginning to get panicky because Thanksgiving was getting closer by the day and she needed to get things spiffed up around the house. She mentioned that she wanted to get rid of the old couch and I volunteered to help. She thought we might get it loaded up onto Dad’s old temperamental Chevy pickup and haul it off to the dump. I had my doubts.
I had asked one of my friends to come along just in case we needed an extra hand. You see that couch is really heavy and Mom only has one arm and my sick family member is hooked up to a machine that has to go wherever he goes and he’s still pretty weak from spending a month in the hospital.
When we got to my mom’s house she mentioned that there had been a slight change in plans. She now wanted to take the couch to the local thrift store because someone might need it and she wanted to load it onto my brother’s 15 foot trailer that was parked in the yard in front of the pickup loaded with landscaping equipment. And while we were here could we put the camper top back on the back of Dad’s truck.
At this point I pretty much through a fit. Why did everything have to be soooo complicated? We had four different supervisors offering four different ways to do the exact same thing and no workers to pull it off. My friend and I decided to just get the couch outside to begin with. We slid it over to the French doors, picked it up and stepped outside. We made it about ten feet before my arms gave out; it was way heavier than I thought.
Since we were going to use the trailer now instead of the truck Mom decided to move the old truck which is a good thing because she is the only one that can start it. My friend and I were trying to hook her truck up to the trailer so we could maneuver it closer to the couch. We couldn’t get it attached right so here comes my family member with his machine to see if he could get it to connect properly. Meanwhile, my mom who was tired of waiting on us decided to back the truck up closer to the couch. Did I mention it was up a hill and the grass was wet?
Periodically, between muffled curse words and shouted expletives as we struggled with the hook on the trailer we would hear mom in the truck and the ever present sound of spinning tires. After several attempts she gave up and we all stepped back to analyze the situation. We struggled back in the house with my sick family member throwing up the whole way; the hitch wasn’t going to work on my friend’s truck.
We rested awhile and then decided to use my brother’s truck to haul the trailer and the danged couch. We unloaded the lawnmowers and weed eaters and other garden tools and somehow wrestled that beast up onto the trailer. By this time I had worn mom down enough that she agreed that we would take the couch to the dump instead of the thrift store.
The dump, which has the best view in town, is only about three miles from her house so we were there rather quickly. We pulled up to the pay window and the lady inside was just beside herself with the fact that we were throwing away such a perfectly good couch. Little did she know that when you sit on the couch it goes to the floor because all of the springs are broken and it didn’t have any legs?
It was going to cost 8 bucks to dump the couch and I saw the woman digging around in her purse for something. The lady looked at my mom and said she would give her the eight dollars if we would take the couch over to her truck and load it up for her. I looked at my friend and my friend looked at me and we both looked at my mom. Mom looked at me and then turned to the lady and said this: “No way, that thing’s going into the dumpster”.
Hurry up mom said, before I change my mind. We had that couch offloaded in a single flip and sent it spiraling down into the dumpster fifteen feet below.
Finally, the couch was gone!
I had to go into town later that evening on my way home and stopped at a local convenience store to get a Diet Coke when a pickup truck pulled in to the gas pumps. In the back of the truck was a sofa that looked vaguely like the couch that had tormented us for three hours earlier in the day. Out jumped the same woman from the dump and we saw each other at the same time. Before I knew it she was heading my way and walked up to me and handed me something. Give this to your mom, she said.
Yep, it was the eight dollars.