oh, the naps we will take

Y'all, please meet the newest addition to my home (well, besides the $24 Black Friday Target microwave in my kitchen), my couch:



I got a fabulous deal on this couch. It makes me wish that every store you went in had sales clerks that followed you around and just started dropping the prices on stuff if you looked at it sideways. Bargain hunting is such a thrill. Of course buying a couch isn't as satisfying as, say, walking away from a little Asian lady and subsequently getting a stolen Coach bag for $25, but hey. We take what we can get. You can't haggle on boots at Macy's, so I will widdle Angelo's bottom line down as much as I can on that couch. And then I will require a cigarette.

So once Angelo made his absolute lowest offer and I bit, we had to deal with the matter of delivery. Professional delivery by the store would cost me $90, and would happen at some time in the next few days. OR. Angelo knows a guy. And his truck -- you see that truck, out there in the parking lot? -- it's right there, and he'll bring you the couch for $50. Cash. TODAY.

It was all so Memphis, I could barely effing stand it.

So naturally I jumped at the deal, Mom and I left the joint and swung through the ATM to grab $50 in cash and I went to my apartment to wait for the delivery. About an hour and a half later, I'm in my pajama pants and my Cookie Monster slippers when this guy pulls up in my driveway with my couch roped in to the bed of his pick-up truck. And it's just. HIM. Alone. By himself. And he looks at me and says, "Are we gonna do this?" And I take one look down at my Cookie Monster slippers and just kind of gawk at him.

The events that followed were nothing if not comical. I picked up the couch, I dropped the couch. I picked up the couch, I dropped the couch. Rinse, repeat. Finally he turned it end over end to get it up to my front door, where we discovered that the angle of the front door of the house and the front door to my apartment were making it impossible to just slide the couch right into my unit. So we pushed it all the way into the entryway, got it up on its side and started pushing. We turned and pushed, and pushed and turned and angled and it just wasn't going in. And it didn't look like it was going to.

And so he leaves me, because frankly that $50 bill isn't magically gaining interest in my wallet, and there I am. Sitting on the floor of my apartment, staring at my upturned couch sitting in the entryway and realizing that I have about 45 minutes to shit or get off the pot because I have to leave for speed dating.

SONOFABITCH.

I'm calling everyone I've ever MET, and they're basically all tied up moving other couches somewhere else and I don't know what happened. Something just got into me. I said to myself, I said, Self? YOU CAN MOVE THIS COUCH.

And holy mother of God, I DID. I angled it and I turned it and I shimmied and pulled and I dragged that couch into the apartment all by myself. My phone rang when I had it about halfway pulled through the door, and it was my mom. She was calling to see if I wanted her to come over and try to help me. I calmly shared with her that I, in fact, am the baddest MF alive and had just moved that eight-foot behemoth all by myself.

Needless to say, I left for speed dating feeling stoned on sheer power. And every nap on these big comfy blue cushions is totally and completely WORTH IT.


cheers,
elizabeth