First Split

When you read my blog yesterday, you might have thought to yourself "If this is the second split, when was the first?"

Ah gentle reader, that is a good question.

When Brian and I were first getting excited about our move to Paradise, we agreed that we would no longer live like college students. It was fine for Madison and for Purgatory, but in Paradise, we would live like adults. That meant no more futon in the living room. It was time for a couch.

So we moved in, got happily unpacked, and stared sadly at the open part of our living room where a couch belonged. The next weekend--when every single person we knew in Ann Arbor was out of town--we decided to buy a vacuum and look at couches.

It turns out that a vacuum cleaner was too big of an investment for us to do on our own and we decided to wait for Brian's mom to visit before buying one. But a $500 couch we were able to pick out and purchase in 45 minutes. Then came the dilemma. Do we pay $80 for delivery?

No. We pay $20 for a U-Haul and deliver it ourselves. It wasn't too scary getting the couch from the store to the van, but from the van to the apartment was another story. First we tried bringing the couch in the front door--but a staircase right inside the door would have required lifting the couch six feet in the air to get it in the building. So Brian eyeballed the back door of our building and decided we could fit the couch in that way. We hauled the couch out and around...only to find out that the door way was 1/2 an inch too small.

We put the couch down. Debated. And resigned ourselves to having to lift the couch up the stairs to make it to our apartment. We had a plan. It was time to ennact. I bent down to lift the couch with my knees, and suddenly there was a breeze where there was no breeze before. I said "Oh my god." Brian looked at me with an expression of pure joy and asked breathlessly "Did you just rip your pants?"

Six inches. Straight up the middle.