Ho Le Phuc. Or, Molehills into Mountains.

So remember that thing about me Freecycling a sofa bed? Well, somebody wanted it, so Sweetie and I decided to move it out to the garage so it would be easier for them to pick up. So, we moved the couch and there you have it. NOT, times ten thousand!!!

First we both crouch down so we can lift with the legs, and at the same time that an Ikea couch would lift to waist level, this couch is still sitting on the floor, and we are giving one another confused looks which say something like "Holy shit! My end is heavy! Is your end heavy? Am I just a pussy? Please let it not just be me..."

We stand up and dust our hands off. We devise a plan. The plan involves putting magic slidy coaster things on the feet and just sliding it out the door. It involves moving the bed in there a little, but we get it slid over to the door with a minimum of problems. But we can't get it out the door. There's a leg or something of the bed part inside (which we believe to be made of cast iron or lead) that is hooked on the doorjamb and has already scratched it slightly. We manouever, jiggle, adjust, push, remove legs, lift, and eventually (with a little more scratching) get it into the hall. Now, the layout of our house is such that the bedrooms are opposite each other across a hallway with the bathroom on one side and a door to the living room on the other. We are trying to angle it out the living room door, but it won't go. We push it towards our bedroom, thinking that then we will be able to angle it into the bathroom, then out the other door. It scratches the living shit out of the bedroom doorjamb. We are frustrated.

We try to unfold the bed and get the mattress out, thinking it will make the couch lighter. It does, but we are then COMPLETELY unable to get it to fold back up. We now have a couch folded out into a bed in the middle of our bedroom, and though it is a fairly spacious room, there is not enough room for that. We have to climb to get to one another. We flip it onto its back to try and slide it out like that, with the bed part pushed halfway in, but apparently some of the cast-iron legs (or hinges, or something -- we really lost all perspective on this thing) were sticking out the back and badly scratched our hardwood floors.

At this point, I call the person who wanted the couch and leave a message with her husband. I'm paraphrasing, but it was something like "Hi, I just wanted to let you know that we were trying to move the sofa bed out so it would be easier for you to get, but it has damaged two of our doorjambs and badly scratched our floors, so we're going to go ahead and destroy it in a fit of pique."

Which Sweetie promptly got to work on with a hammer and much cursing. I won't elaborate, but it was kind of scary. Unfortunately, it's surprisingly hard to destroy a cast-iron sofa bed. Bits were welded, other bits were screwed in tightly (and stripped when we tried to unscrew them. Other bits were a size we didn't have a socket wrench of. And all the bits were pointy and sharp. We had to take a break at one point to staunch my bleeding: we figured the floor had sustained enough damage. Anyway, 30 minutes later or so, we had it broken into manageable chunks and dragged it to the garage.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I know it's probably not Wylda Fitch's fault -- she's old, and I believe it was her son/daughter-in-law MIKE and LISA FITCH, who failed to comply with the terms of the sale and failed to remove the couch, which we specifically asked them to do, and those are the people who suck and whom we hate. MIKE FITCH and LISA FITCH. Go ahead; Google yourself, bitches. You suck. You ruined our floor, hurt my toe, and fucked up our Saturday night. Not to mention all the other crapola you left around here. You're big crappy crapheads. I hope your new home, wherever it is, has radon. And mice with Hanta virus. And lead paint for your babies to chew.

I probably will feel better tomorrow, but I'm pretty cranky right about now.