So we live with my parents right?

Well when we moved in we brought our 2 sets of couches. On from the beginning-ish of our marriage (basically before the kids – that the kids of course destroyed) and one from more recent.

When we moved into my parents house my husband refused to get rid of the older one.


My mom is laying on the couch in question. My dad is sitting next to her on the newer nicer couches; threatening me on not taking his picture….whoops.

Anyways, my husband refused to get rid of em….and I refused storage.. so that’s been our living room for six months.

Finally we are getting rid of the funky nasty couch, my husband has given in.

But it’s gotten me thinking as to why my husbands been so against selling that couch. In his mind – it’s me. Or really the old me. The me before all the changes, the pain, the fear, the anger, the paranoia, & all that jazz Came to our house.

In his mind getting rid of the couch is saying that we’ll never get back to the old days. Where we would laugh and just be so relaxed and there were no limitations to what I could and couldn’t do.

The old couch was not full of stains of poop or pee but of a life full of love and joy and darn that we hafta give it away.


Screw all that. Knowing my husband, he’s probably didn’t want to get rid of the couch cause we paid it off.