This is my couch*. The very first piece of real furniture that I ever picked out and bought. I have had it for approximately 12 years and it's very evident that it has seen better days. No longer can you disguise the holes; they're on every cushion. The piping is also sticking out. And the fabric is stained. A few months ago the frame broke in half. But still, I love this couch.
When we moved into our house a year ago, we stuck Joe's couch in the basement and my couch upstairs because we thought it would just be with us a short while as we anticipated having something delivered to replace it. Then we changed our minds and cancelled the order. Then the shopping got put on the back-burner while we instead bought other things. And so finally, today, we picked out a new couch that will shortly replace this one.
While new furniture is fun, I am kind of dreading the day that this one leaves our house. Even with the broken frame and the stained cushions, it's comfy like a pair of cozy old sweatpants. You know, the ones with the holes that you might not want to be caught dead in but you can't help but wear them anyway?
I have had more friends sleep on this couch than I can recall. This couch has provided me with many Sunday naps. It has been with me during many tearful movies. It has made six moves with me. But all good things must come to an end. So goodbye, blue brushed denim couch. You will be missed but never forgotten.
*Yes, it's true, I am the only person sentimental enough to write a post about a couch.