Monday, April 24, 2006
The Death Sofa
This little love seat was originally part of a pretty floral duo that I found in one of the local estate liquidator stores. It cost more than a brand new Ethan Allen Furniture Gallery Custom sofa and loveseat, but I was blinded by love of the floral upholstery. I knew nothing, then, about quality construction and the tensile strength of sofa springs.
When the sofas were first delivered and arranged in my living room, I began to notice an odd smell emanating from them. After a weekend of puffs of pork wafting up as I passed by, I did a thorough upholstery shampoo and vacuum. It was then that the cockroaches came out.
I fought hard and eventually won the cockroach battle, but the sofas had a "Burned Bacon ala DDT" scent to them forever after.
A few years passed. The full sized sofa died a saggy and threadbare death and had to be removed without a funeral. This may have triggered the love seat to take it's revenge on me for splitting them up, because one day...
One day I was lounging on the love seat talking on the phone when from the back of the sofa I heard a sharp, metallic Ping rather like a projectile bullet or the twang of an arrow as it flies, followed by a gush of blood and my own terrible screams. The sofa had sprung a spring!
Yes, gentle readers, it actually pierced my ankle with the end of the shattered spring. From then until this day, I have lived in awesome fear of the Sofa of Death. I know of what it is capable. I keep it shrouded in a quilt and extra pillows, the spring mended and battened with thick cotton padding, but I know that one false move and someone--myself or a friend--could meet their doom should that sofa decide to pierce their heart with another broken spring.