This move has taught me many things.
Patience, flexibility, the value of laughter in the face of extreme stress... you know, crap like that.
But the most important lesson that came out of this experience was this:
Never, ever, under ANY circumstances, should I trust my most valued possessions to my husband's care unless absolutely certain he values said possessions as earnestly and passionately as I do.
My friends, my $50 green couch -- lovingly referred to by all who knew and cherished it as the "green monster" -- is gone.
That's right, dead in a dumpster somewhere.
It didn't even get the courtesy of being returned to the place from whence it came (DI, in case you were curious).
Reece waited an entire two days to break the news.
He stood about 50 feet away from me as the dreaded words spilled from his lips.
His face turned a deeper shade of red as he stammered some excuse about not finding space for it and not wanting to pay to store it.
But all I heard was betrayal.
I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.
Oh the humanity!
I thought about trying to pull some strings to get an obituary in the Deseret News, but I'm pretty sure it would get me fired.
Apparently written memorials for departed couches are not socially acceptable.
So I'll say a few words right here, in an effort to put my mind, soul and heart at ease.
The Green Monster...
I knew you were right for me the moment I laid eyes on you that fateful day nearly four years ago.
I was immediately attracted by your style, your originality and your undeniable charm.
So much, in fact, that I immediately threw myself at you to stake my claim -- much to the dismay of the many other suitors eager to win your heart.
You made our first little dumpy basement apartment a real home.
You held me in your arms when I made the startling realization that my husband had a snoring problem and that sharing a bed with a boy was not conducive to a good night's sleep.
Your cushions cupped many a bum -- always perfectly accomodating.
You followed us to Salt Lake City, where you became the envy (or horror) of any and all visitors.
You held my newborn baby tenderly nearly every afternoon, allowing me to accomplish the day's work.
You patiently bore the pain of assuming the role of cat scratching post -- never once complaining.
And though you were abandoned by someone you trusted most, I am sure you would gladly allow said person to find comfort in your cushions again if I were to force him to bring you back (which I have contemplated doing many, many times over the past few days).
I love you, dear monster.
And rest assured, I will bring you justice, likely in the form of a similar couch from Anthropologie that will take your murderer years to pay off.
Reece saved me a cushion, foolishly thinking it would save him from my wrath.
Silly, silly boy.
Post edit: Apparently Reece has an alli -- my own father left the following blasphemous message on my Facebook wall:
"Look -- sorry to break it to you, love, but the thing was BUTT UGLY and probably was a haven for bedbugs, lice, peojos, assasin bugs, etc. I did you a favor. OOPS. I mean REECE did you a favor!!!"
Oh the men in my life.