This is the story of the saga of two couches. Well, maybe three. Musical Chairs for Chesterfields, if you will.
When we moved here, we decided in no uncertain terms, that we would not be bringing our couch into this house. It is in reasonable shape, yes, with only the cushions needing replacing and new covers. The frame is good and sturdy and a nice stained wood. But it is decidedly of the Country/ranch style. Doesnâ€™t work with this house. And besides, it is the only couch we have ever owned, so weâ€™re a little sick of it.
There was much discussions with Martha… I mean, Mom, over what to do about a couch, especially since we really couldnâ€™t afford to outright buy a new one.
She loaned us her small loveseat, which sat in her porch. It is a dusty pink. Now you may think to yourself, â€œGee, that doesnâ€™t really go with your red walls, dear,â€ but somehow with it paired with a new-to-us recovered bench in a tapestry fabric with pink & red in it, it somehow works.
Now Momâ€™s loveseat also folds out into a bed. Very nice for company. Mom has a lot of company over the summer, so understandably, she would like her loveseat sofa bed back.
The good news is, sheâ€™s also sick of her main couch. Now this couch is big. I think it would sit four adults comfortably. And with the size of rear-ends in my family, thatâ€™s saying something. It is also extremely comfortable.
But it is a nubbly blue plaid. Very country. Extremely country. It very much needs to be slipcovered. Mom even slipcovered it for the winter. Did I mention I really dislike slipcovers? They bunch and move and never look right, except for when you first put them on. The minute someone sits on them, they go all wrinkly. Especially the ones that are just a big piece of fabric, which are the kind Mom usually buys.
This weekend, Mom had bought a slipcover for her rocking chair, which matches the couch and is something that stays at her house. She fussed and fought with it until Carl told her to wait until I came over to fix it. So I show up, and of course, have to tackle the slipcover on the chair. Ron keeps cracking jokes that I have it inside-out because the tags are showing. Thereâ€™s paper tags on it to help line it up on the furniture.
My Mother, helpful soul that she is, is reciting the following to anyone who wanders into her living room to watch:
â€œGas to get to the store – $3,
Slipcover for my chair – $89,
Watching my daughter pull her hair out trying to make it look perfect – PRICELESS!â€
This week I have to wash the pink loveseat. Everyone lives on it, of course. And while it is wet, I have to make sure nobody sits on it. Hmmm, this may be a job for evening. Sometimes this week, or maybe next, we will make the Big Couch Switch. At least the men get to deal with that frustration while I just hold doors and tell them where to put it.
And as much as I hate slipcovers, I am going to make a fitted one for the blue couch. It will take yards and yards of fabric. Fortunately, I have a huge bolt of a cream wool leftover from the store. Also, a cream couch works well with the room. Extremely well.
I think the time and effort involved is some sort of plot to drive me crazy, though. Have I mentioned Iâ€™ve never sewn a custom-fitted slipcover before? Ah well, like that will stop me.