Fights are a normal part of married life, but one of our worst fights came over something as insignificant as a couch. To be fair to the couch, it was a beautiful piece. Decked out in cream fabric, with rope braiding and big, fluffy cushions, it would make a handsome addition to our lounge-room, replacing the ordinary check brown we already had. We decided to do the removal ourselves, not realising that this was to not only be a disaster but lead to a huge tiff.
Getting the couch into the apartment block was no problem. But the couch refused to fit into the lift. Whether we stood the couch on end, or turned it on its side it just wouldn�t fit. We would have to lug the couch up three flights of stairs.
And this was no light Freedom Furniture number. It was a solidly built couch with the added burden of an inner-spring bed weighing another thirty pounds. As we picked up the couch from the bottom we realised that this was work for real removalists, with real biceps and real calf muscles; not two slim guys that looked (and felt) more like 87 pound weaklings needing help from Mr Atlas� exercise machines.
Climbing the stairs with this couch was like climbing Everest. At the top of each plateau we had to try to catch our breadth as we balanced the lounge on the ledge. The couch didn�t want to go up the stairs, anymore than up the lift, and it showed its disinterest by flicking open its in-built mattress at us at regular intervals.
But eventually, we got to the summit, gasping for oxygen and bathed in sweat. The easy part was now getting the couch into the apartment. We got to the door and realised that the couch wouldn�t go through the door. Just like the lift, no matter how many ways we tried it, it was just too big. If we could have taken the security door off the frame, the extra few millimeters might have been enough to get it through. But since we weren�t locksmiths anymore than removalists, this was one option we didn�t have. We dropped to the floor in total defeat!
�this was work for real removalists, with real biceps and real calf muscles; not two slim guys that looked (and felt) more like 87 pound weaklings needing help from Mr Atlas� exercise machines.
Our dreams of a beautiful, new, cream couch in our home were shattered and now there was the added burden of taking the couch back down the stairs. But where to? We couldn�t take it back to the shop! The only alternative was to leave it in the hallway next to our door until we worked out what to do with it. We weren�t worried that someone who was �couch-less� would try to take the couch. Even the most dedicated couch thief wouldn�t try to steal something as heavy as this couch. If they tried, they�d quickly be attacked by that fierce-some inner- spring mattress!
But what we didn�t count on was a graffiti-ist taking texta to our cream couch. Fortunately the texta came off with some dedicated scrubbing but this incident didn�t make us very secure about our neighbours. What sort of neighbour would attack your couch with a texta?
The second unexpected thing was that the Body Corporate placed the couch in their advertised minutes: SETTEE ON THIRD FLOOR. Strata Management to put removal notice on settee left on third floor obstructing egress of residents. Since the couch was right next door to our wall, and the only public it was blocking was us, this was an example of stupid, and unhelpful, bureaucracy at work. If the Body Corporate was so concerned, why not help us put it into storage?
What really got under my skin was the way the Body Corporate seemed to think the couch was just something to be removed. It wasn�t like some ugly, rusty, old wreck that had been dumped in the street. If anything, it was a beautiful couch that actually made the hallway look more attractive. Far from being a nuisance it could be an asset. It also looked so inviting that some drunken neighbour might one night give up on trying to fit his key into the lock and decide to use the couch as his bed for the night. If anything, we were doing the body Corporate a favour!
Two weeks later we found a solution to the couch problem: Tony would temporarily house it in his new flat. Tony swapped removalist roles with Kevin and we set to work. In theory, getting the couch down the stairs would be easier. In practice, we found it almost as difficult going down as up because the couch still protested with its feisty inner spring mattress.
