After moving in to our apartment without any furniture, it was decided that we needed a couch. If it had been any other piece of furniture, such as a table or bookshelf, we’d have found it the way we found all of our other furniture: go outside and walk around until you find a discarded chair or coffee table on the side of the road. But as couches are tricky—they’re stuffed fabric, anything could be in them— you have to be a little more careful. So instead I spent hours perusing Craigslist and Facebook Marketplace, looking for the perfect unused, sparkling clean, beautiful couch that also happened to be between 0 and 100 dollars.
I believed I had found the perfect one: a beautiful blue velvet couch listed as $100. After sending the seller a thousand questions, I found out that the couch was barely used, and when it was used, it had a sheet covering it to keep it clean. Pet-free and smoke-free. I could come get it anytime. It was couch fate.
We rented a U-Haul truck for a couple hours one morning and drove to get our new couch. After arriving at the seller’s home, the woman brought us inside to a mostly empty room, with the one exception being the couch sitting against the wall. My boyfriend and I took one quick look at the couch and then at each other.
First of all, the couch was GREEN. Not blue. This woman must have had to edit the photo so much that it literally turned the picture a different color. Why did she have to edit it, you ask? The couch was covered in hair. It reeked of cigarettes. It was immediately the most disappointing thing I had seen in a long, long time.
Then the woman proceeded to tell us that she loved this couch. She had slept on it every single night for the past few months. By the looks of it, so had seven animals. She was sleeping on it to escape her man’s snoring. Everyone hated her man— the neighbors, the mailman, even her sometimes. That’s why they were having to move. “Do you want me to help you load it into the truck?” she asked.
Here came the real dilemma. We had paid $60 for the truck to come get this couch. So we could either leave without the couch and lose $60, or we could bring the couch home and try to do something with it.
We chose the latter.
After purchasing the couch for $80 instead of $100 (the woman didn’t put up much of a fight), we were the proud owners of a large green (not blue!!) piece of trash. Once it was secured in the bed of the truck (wouldn’t want to lose this treasure on the highway), I got into the passenger seat and immediately started laughing. I laughed for the first 15 minutes of our drive home, literally unable to stop. My boyfriend was decidedly angry about the fact that we had this couch now, and couldn’t get behind my laughing.
Addy: “I thought that woman told you it was pet hair-free and smoke-free, and it hadn’t been used…”
Me: “She did.” *still uncontrollably laughing*
Addy: “Why are you laughing??”
Me: “This is the funniest thing to ever happen!”
Addy: “I’m not really getting the humor.”
Me: “We just drove an hour and spent $60 on this truck to buy a couch from a woman who basically lived on it with all of her pets, and we couldn’t even put the pillows inside the truck so they wouldn’t blow away because they smell so terrible.”
Addy: “So are we going to use this couch?”
Me: “Of course not. I’m not sitting on that thing.”
Addy: “SO WHY DID WE BUY IT?”
Me: “Because we’re going to sell it to make up for the money we spent on the truck.”
Addy: “AND WHO IS GOING TO WANT IT??”
Me: “WOULD YOU CALM DOWN, I HAVE A PLAN.”
We brought the couch into the house (I regretted this immediately, the smell was overpowering) and vacuumed it. We used a lint remover to try to get the pet hair off. We flipped over the cushions to whichever side had the least amount of stains. I opened all the windows, sprayed the couch with Febreeze, and started taking pictures.
I listed the couch as $150, pick up as soon as possible. I attached pictures of every angle, clearly showing the correct color of the couch, as well as any rips or tears. People with questions could message me (and when they did, I told them a brief summary of the couch’s history: its previous owner was a smoker and had pets. No deception here.)
Within a day, a woman said she was interested in coming to see it. THIS WAS IT.
When the woman arrived, all the windows were open, and I just happened to have just pulled out a baking sheet full of freshly made chocolate chip cookies that gave off a truly delicious smell.
The woman bought the couch for $150, meaning after renting the truck for $60 and buying the couch for $80, we had made $10.
I was incredibly proud of myself.
This success made me want to start buying unloved furniture, turning coffee tables and dining room chairs into something you could love a little bit, for a little bit more money. A new career! Watch out, world!
(This idea was immediately vetoed.)
Moral of the story: if you need to get rid of something that is genuinely repulsive, try to sell it first. LIST ITS FLAWS. People will still buy it. And it helps to bake cookies while you’re trying to sell it, wafting the cookie scent around the room to distract your prey while masking the smell of cigarette smoke and your desperation.
An additional note: We did end up finding a couch I was willing to sit on—it’s oddly shaped and soft and beautiful. We bought it from a man named Jerry who has a very clean home and no pets, and who also doesn’t smoke. He also doesn’t own a cellphone, which I respect. A real stand-up guy. I would trust him with my life, probably.
Memoirable Moments 