Sofa City, sweetheart

I moved ten times before the age of 15. I can move. I know how. And all the other moves involved a lot more stuff than what our flat can hold…but somehow, what we did move into our new flat still seemed like a huge amount.

Over the last few weeks, Scott and I have slowly moved most of our belongings into the new flat. The movers came on Saturday and moved the large pieces of furniture. As they were carrying the bed through the patio doors of our ground floor flat, one of the movers exclaimed, “This isn’t so bad!” And we had to say, “Well, where you’re taking this stuff is up four flights of stairs.”

He wasn’t so cheerful after that.

And they certainly weren’t any more cheerful when they saw the staircases and the tight corners. As they were bringing in bookshelves and our TV, the guy who was in charge said, “I think we’re going to struggle to get your sofa up here.”

This sofa, while it is very comfortable, has been a thorn in our sides.

Let me tell you about this sofa. Three years ago, Scott was living by himself and had a futon in his living room. This futon was broken and the metal frame was being propped up by a basketball. The futon dipped in the middle where the basketball was. You could really only sit on the ends of the futon and even then, you were sort of slanted.

I was adamant that we get a new sofa before getting married. We needed a sofa. We spent most of our evenings on that futon and I was sick and tired of repositioning the basketball. I was also afraid the basketball would burst, go flying from under the futon, smash the windows and the futon would collapse leaving us flat on the floor with shards of glass all around us. We needed a sofa.

Scott’s mom generously offered to buy us one as a wedding present in advance. We didn’t look very hard for one since we needed it quickly and we thought Ikea would be the place. We didn’t realize their leather furniture wouldn’t be available to take home then and there. Mistake #1.

Actually mistake #1 was not measuring the doorway before ordering the sofa but we didn’t know this was a mistake until weeks later.

So we ordered the sofa (a very normal sized three seater) and then we were told it might take three months for delivery. Oh, right. So it’s not flatpacked in the warehouse? Does Ikea do anything else?

But we bought it anyway. Eight weeks later, the sofa was delivered. My friend Jane and I were home to receive it. But in retrospect, I didn’t have to take the day off of work because the sofa couldn’t actually fit through the door.

The Ikea man left it wrapped in bubble wrap in the communal area of Scott’s building and I called Scott in a panic. I stressed that the Ikea man said they would take it back only if we didn’t open it.

The next day, I come back to find the sofa unwrapped, teetering on its side in the hallway. Scratches on the leather and everything. I find Scott inside, seething.

Apparently he thought he knew better than the professional movers. He thought unwrapping it and trying to force it through the doorway would do the trick.

Needless to say, I was not happy and being a big believer in signs, I was convinced that our marriage was doomed because our first wedding present was turning into a disaster. There’s no room for the sofa! There’s no room for me! You can’t just push and push! What if it’s just not going to fit? Is this sofa indicative of our relationship?

Yes, I know. Sometimes Scott deserves a medal.

And then when he unwraps the sofa and makes it non-returnable, he loses all his medals.

Anyway, the following weekend we hired movers to come and take the sofa to a storage room. We then paid for a storage room big enough for the sofa. This gift was starting to add up!

The sofa sat in storage for over a year. We could have bought three more sofas with the money we spent to keep it in storage.

Right before we got married, Scott sold his old place and we rented in a new area. We made sure the new place had a big enough doorway. Luckily for us, the flat Scott chose for us had french doors out to a patio. Perfect for moving in furniture.

But unfortunately when Scott and his friends moved the furniture inside, they didn’t have a key to the french doors. So they were back to pushing it through the doorway. They did get it in though.

When it came to our new home, I did think about the furniture situation. The hallway is wide. The door is wide. The front entrance to the building is wide.

What I didn’t consider was that the building would still be under construction and the front entrance wouldn’t be in use. So the only option would be the emergency exit in the back. I didn’t realize how small it was.

Until the movers pointed it out and in between all the cups of tea I made them, they shook their heads and made discouraging noises about the possibility of our sofa ever making it into our new flat. We suggested they try to take it to the parking garage where the doors are a bit wider and try to shove it in the lift. The guy in charge grimaced at the thought but said they would try.

I paced around the flat as Scott explained the worst case scenario – we would just have to leave our sofa propped up in the underground parking garage and try to get the builders to use a forklift to get it up and through our balcony doors.

We heard the lift come back up to our floor and we held our breath. No sofa emerged. We heard the doors close and the lift went back down. I walked to the staircase and leaned over the railings. I could hear heavy breathing and panting from four floors below. I also heard a lot of swear words.

And then I saw it. A flash of red. Our sofa was making its way up the stairs. It was also leaving its (red) mark across all the walls but we’re just going to plead the 5th on that one.

About 20 minutes later, the men arrived on our floor and started to inch the sofa into our flat. Their faces were as red as the sofa and the sweat was pouring off them. (Never have I appreciated Scott’s “wipe clean” theory about leather furniture more.)

I shrieked, “You did it!” I may have even clapped.

And the guy turned to me and said, completely deadpan,”When you next move house, I recommend you chuck this over the balcony.”

(Brownie points to the first person who can tell me what movie the line “Sofa City, sweetheart” comes from.)