Years ago in the middle of a life upheaval I had to buy a new sofa, and quickly. I needed something that would fit into my new space. My new place was smaller than my old place so I needed something scaled down. But since it was only being used by a couple of adults and one quite small child I wasn’t concerned about it fitting us so much as I was concerned about it fitting in the space and also that we had a place to sit.

As the next 6 or so years flew past the little tiny couch or slightly larger than average loveseat served us fine. I won’t say well because it just kind of did what it did. Never quite being uncomfortable but certainly not offering the warm embrace of a comfy couch in a home where people tend to hang out in the living room.

We have chairs and a floor too. Plenty of places to let yourself come to rest.

But it was an inexpensive sofa in addition to being small. And as time went by it started seeing a lot of butt time. Mostly mine if we’re being completely honest. Because I work from home I’m here most of the time. And while I have a seated work station at my desk and a standing work station in the dining room surrounded by my plants, nothing quite beats the appeal of snuggling down on the couch, comfy couch or no, to work from my laptop and really focus for a couple of hours.

Then there are the teenagers. My teenager and her teenagers. If you can believe it when teenagers come over they sit on the couch too. To watch tv. To chat. To make art. To be teenagers and eat junk food and have astonishing intelligent conversations and then loudly declare “Wig!”

And also my partner. Because at the end of our very long days sometimes all we want to do is crash on the sofa and put our feet up and have a drink and watch some cooking shows until it’s a reasonable time for us to call it a night and go to sleep.

So my tiny little couch or slightly larger than usual loveseat has seen a lot of butts and probably more than your average amount of butt time over the years. It wasn’t intended. It wasn’t supposed to be here that long. It was supposed to be an interim sofa. A make do piece. And 3 or 4 years ago I realized that it was time to find something else. A little bigger. A little more comfortable. A little more sturdy. And a little more resistant to the blonde and black cat fur that makes its way onto everything in the house.

And when I got my tax refund 3 or 4 years ago I started looking. And I’ve been looking ever since trying to find just the right fit.

But now my teenager is a teenager. She’s like a fully formed human size, as are all of her teenage friends. We can no longer comfortably all fit on the little tiny couch or slightly larger than average loveseat. Finding a new one became imperative. And so it was with great ambition that I began the search for a new sofa. Again.

And despite seriously doubting myself I managed to purchase a sofa. And arrange delivery. And I was still really doubting that I made the right choice when one of my most amazing friends said “Couches are for the butt.”

One little sentance. Totally containing the word butt. And suddenly I let go of all the stress and anxiety around picking the perfect sofa and whether or not the one I bought was the right one. It was comfy. We put our butts on it and declared it so.

I was released from the stress of whether or not I made the right choice and, as I tend to do, I barreled headfirst into the future preparing for the new sofa. I made a mental task list and realized that the very first thing I needed to do was get rid of the old sofa that had served us so adequately for so many years. In a smallish space it’s better to have no sofa for a while than two sofas, right?

Since I live in the city only one plan made sense. Stick it out front of the house with a free sign and wait for someone to take it. But the city I live in is Portland where it rains so even such a simple plan requires some planning. I checked the weather and realized that Thursday would be the only day it was going to be sunny and rain-free between the day I purchased the sofa (Monday) and the day it arrives (Tuesday next week).

Wednesday I moved it out under the carport to keep it free of the rain and the whet the appetites of free sofa seekers. Perhaps someone had just been waiting for a free sofa to become available? Perhaps it would go right away. It didn’t. So yesterday in the glorious morning sun I dragged it down to the base of the driveway, reaffixed the sign advertising it at the low low price of free, and hoped for the best.

Some time between 5pm and 8pm it disappeared.

This morning I woke up on my own with no alarm. I stretched and took my time rolling out of bed. I put my feet on the floor and made little fists with my toes on the carpet like that airline passenger in Die Hard recommended John McClane do when he lands. I left my bedroom and headed down the hall thinking how much I love curling up on the sofa on my one meeting free day every week to just dive into all the work I was planning to get done.

It was only when I saw the big bare spot on the living room carpet that I remembered I don’t have a damn couch until Tuesday. Tuesday can’t get here soon enough.