The cushions are like quicksand. Once you're in them, you cannot get out.
We found a couch we loved during a Black Friday sale, and we finally got it this past weekend, because true to form, while we decided on a house in about three days, it took us seven months to commit to the couch. Matt and his brother picked it up on Friday evening, and because it's a sectional, it came in six different boxes.
We foolishly decided to start the assembly on Friday night around 6:30.
Without eating dinner.
And we could not figure out how to put it together. We were also working in our dimly lit family room, which still contained our two old couches, two end tables, and coffee table, and was approximately 86 degrees because our circa 1983 wall air conditioning unit has seen better decades.
By 9:30 we'd had the couch in about six different unsuccessful configurations, so naturally Matt surmised that it was manufactured incorrectly. There are clips on both sides of each piece, some facing up and some facing down, which are ideally supposed to click together.
Due to the assumed faulty manufacturing, Matt unscrewed the clips on four of the six pieces, flipped them upside down, and screwed them back on.
And then it REALLY wouldn't go together. We decided we should put the clips back the way they came, but we couldn't remember which we'd switched and which we'd left and it was then that I started to cry and suggested we just order pizza and try again tomorrow.
And so that's exactly what we did. And we ate it on our old flat couch because we didn't want to chance getting pizza on the new one.
Life is glamorous.
We tried the couch assembly again on Saturday, and things went much better after a full night of sleep. It also helped that the corner piece, which had been sitting right on the ground and therefore three inches below the rest of the couch causing us great frustration, had a zipper pouch on the bottom with six little legs.
My sister was coming over on Saturday evening, and just as Matt and I high-fived our successful couch assembly, Emily texted me and said "Hey, can you send me your address so I can plug it into my GPS?"
We've lived in our house for seven months. She's been here several times. And it is a whopping one point nine miles and three turns from my parents' house where Emily has lived for her entire twenty years.
But I sent her our address and she made it here without getting lost on one of those three tricky turns.
I recently learned that Em had never seen Forrest Gump (or Father of the Bride, which is a movie marathon for another weekend), so that's what we watched on Saturday night. As the credits rolled, I looked at her with tears in my eyes and said, "Well, that was Forrest Gump, a cinematic masterpiece. What did you think?"
And she rolled her eyes and said, "Meh."
I still get nervous when Emily drives, so as she got in the car to leave, I walked out to the sidewalk and yelled through the open window, "Use your mirrors!! Never trust someone else's turn signal! Hands at ten and two!!"
And she laughed and said, "Hands at seven and nine!"
Seven and nine? I didn't see how that would ensure complete control of the vehicle but figured maybe it was some newfangled driver's ed trend. But then Emily shouted, "Oops!! I meant nine and three! Bye!"
And she drove off into the sunset, with her hands who knows where on the steering wheel but most definitely not adjusting the radio dial because SAFETY FIRST.
Today was a hundred degrees (literally) and around dinnertime a whopper of a storm rolled in.
Emily texted me to see what she should do if the power went out and I offered some sage advice.
Matt turned into Jim Cantore over here had the radar going and was literally racing from window to window checking out the conditions in the front yard versus the back yard.
When it started to hail, Matt ran outside to grab a piece and had me take a picture to tweet to his favorite meteorologist, which she retweeted, HOLLA,
And then he saved the hail in the freezer.
"We have to save the first hail in the new house!" he said.
Such a sentimental guy.
Also, please don't judge the three containers of ice cream in the freezer. Matt emailed Turkey Hill a few weeks ago to share how much he enjoys their ice cream and to keep up the good work, and they sent us a PACKAGE of coupons and vouchers and we've been using them with reckless abandon.
I'm falling back into my childhood routine of eating a bowl of ice cream every single night before bed. Except as a child I would sit at the kitchen table and read/memorize my elementary school's handbook and family directory.
Now I can at least sit on a firm, perfectly assembled couch while I enjoy a bowl of chocolate peanut butter cup.
And watch Forrest Gump.
Life is glamorous.