Remember how I finally got a “new” sofa? Remember how I said that it was time to say goodbye to the gross, off-white-turned-beige dilapidated one with the ripped cushions that has served us well for 12 years?

This sofa won’t let me quit her.

After multiple listings on Craigslist and putting it on a local yard sale page and accidentally posting the wrong photos, I finally gave up. The old sofa didn’t seem worth the trouble.

And this was just fine with my family because they were near tears about letting the old girl go. They all begged me not to get rid of her.

Why can’t we have two sofas?

It doesn’t look that bad.

It doesn’t matter that we have to climb over the old one to get through the living room to the hallway. It’s fun!

And I am thinking to myself and sometimes muttering out loud, I cannot even enjoy my new sofa because it sits in all of its crisp, white, slipcovered glory next to this beastly old greige one!

The day of reckoning with this sofa finally arrived last Friday. My daughter had a friend coming over and I was well aware that I needed to have things looking spiffy because she is thirteen and very much concerned about appearances. By the time I was ready to do some quick cleaning, I realized I had exactly 30 minutes to figure out a solution for this sofa.

Panic and perspiration ensued.

There was no way I could get that beast down the hallway by myself and into one of the bedrooms without removing doors from hinges and punching holes through the walls!

There was no way I could leave it where it was!

My resourcefulness had finally met its match!

Get a hold of yourself woman, I said to myself through clenched teeth. There is always, ALWAYS an option. Do NOT let this sofa win. No matter how many times you’ve reconfigured this room over the last eight years, there has to be a place for this nasty sofa. Never mind the fact that it’s the size of a small bus. 

So I huffed and puffed and dragged that sofa into the bay window area. Yes, the place where we eat our meals. The place where normal people put wooden chairs. I moved the kitchen table over and anchored the rug under the front feet of the sofa. Two kitchen chairs got the boot and found a new home in the attic, while the sofa with nine lives found a new home in the area I now affectionately refer to as “The Lounge.”

It’s ridiculous.

It is surely not permanent.

It delights my family to no end.

My daughter told me that we need to leave it like this forever and her sweet friend asked me if I was an interior designer. What?!?

I have to admit, it is kind of fun and cushy and loungey and I want to take a nap after every meal.

The good news is that I don’t have to worry about kids getting it dirty because it is already 50 Shades of Greige. {That one just came to me while typing. High five.}

My boys think it makes a fine place to build a ship on Saturday mornings.

Whether the sofa stays with us forever or not, I’m reminded of a lesson that I’m quick to forget. There is almost always a new way to see a room or a piece of furniture. Problems can be the gateway to creative opportunities. {Once I even flipped a rug upside down.}

The Nester calls them “Lovely Limitations.” In fact, her new book has an entire chapter devoted to this subject and I must admit that I pictured her perched upon my shoulder and cheering me on as I turned our eating area into a lounge.

I’ll keep you posted on the state of the sofa. She is turning into a glory hog and I think she secretly loves that I’ve written yet another post about her. She’ll be wanting her own reality show and feature film before we know it. {Sofas Gone Wild? The Secret Lives of Sofas? Slumdog Sofa?}

Whatever happens with her, I have a feeling she is far from finding her final resting place.

To be continued…

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