It has come to my attention that I am now allergic to our couch. This is not wholly unexpected. Spring is in the air, which means if you look at me wrong, I sneeze. With pollens already irritating my sensitivities, it doesn’t take much for anything else to send me over the edge into a reaction — in this case, a couch I purchased for fifty bucks from my ex-boyfriend’s ex-roommate’s ex-girlfriend (really) twelve years ago when she moved to another apartment and didn’t want to take it with her. In addition to a fold-out bed so treacherous it could mangle the strongest back, it houses an assortment of writing implements, several handfuls of change, and enough fur to make a full-grown cat.
Adding another allergen to my repertoire was not one of my goals for this year, no matter how worthy the specimen may be. To be honest, I’m still trying to get used to having allergies in the first place. Thanks to good luck in the lottery we call genetics, penicillin, strawberries, bees, and even poison ivy have never given me so much as a rash, sneeze, cough, or itch.
And then by chance I moved to the desert — the climate that physicians in Ohio (where I grew up) recommended for those sensitive to pollens and the like. Now I gleefully spend every spring sneezing. Which is where the couch comes in (again). When springtime rolls around, and the pollens are at their worst, something in or on the couch, knowing that I am temporarily weak, joins in and gives me hives. Since my husband’s not moving back east, and I won’t move without him, the couch has to be the one to go, because I can handle spring in the desert or I can handle ancient upholstery, but it turns out that I can’t handle both.
This is not a decision to be made lightly, however. I’ve had my sofa over a third of my life — longer than I’ve owned any item of clothing, three times longer than my husband and I have been married, and twenty-four times longer than I’ve had my car. Shabbiness and reaction-inducing upholstery aside, there are some serious attachment issues here. Which means I must a) learn to hate the thing so much I must be rid of it or b) find a replacement I like even better. Since the latter has turned out to be nigh unto impossible, it looks like I’m fully relying on choice number one. Once the Couch of Death (See? I’m trying.) is properly vilified in my mind, maybe it will be easier to send it to the great furniture warehouse in the sky and invite a younger, prettier model into our family room. I’ll even try not to feel too guilty about it, but I’m making no guarantees.
Closeup: Couch of Death + Minion (for scale)
Click on photo for enlarged villainy. It’s probably worth it.
Rosie is NOT evil. Clearly, you’ve altered a perfectly innocent photo. As for the couch…I can’t think of anything, at this point, that I am NOT allergic to. I will probably be allergic to the new one, too. Even before cats set paw on it. 🙄 It’s always a good feeling to get a new piece of furniture, though.
Sadly, I have clothes over twelve years old. I’d rather buy books. My husband has to FORCE me to buy clothes, and he has to fight me to do it.
I’m an Ohioan, too! I want to move to Arizona. Actually, DH and I want to move to an RV, and then go everywhere. 🙂
We had to get a leather couch for our kids with allergies. It really made a difference. If that helps you say goodbye to your couch…
I feel your pain. I had to give up owning cats due to my allergies.
Katie, the amazing thing is that not only is the photo not altered (except cropping and desaturating it), but I didn’t even notice the teeth in the shadow until I was nearly finished with it.
Spyscribbler, I probably would have clothes that old except I don’t buy a lot of clothes, so I wear the ones I have to death. Also in that time I gained a lot of weight and then lost it again. Also, I graduated from college and had several very different jobs which required different wardrobes. But I’m with you — I’d much rather spend the money on books.
Barrie, that’s a thought! I hadn’t considered leather, but I can see how it would be less allergenic. At the very least, allergens can’t get stuck in the fibers, which is what I suspect has happened here.
Dru, that is my worst nightmare! I’m very, very mildly allergic (just when the hairs get in my eyes, which actually happens a lot) and my husband’s mother and sister are both allergic. I’m terrified that when we have kids they’ll be allergic to the cats. It would be so sad. I’d really miss my kids a lot… 😉
Falling in love with people/things that hurt us is not healthy! Send EVIL couch to the fiery death it deserves.
(drama and pop psychology 101 over for the day)
(advice to be taken with a very large grain of salt as it comes from someone who has clothes AND furniture older than her teenagers)
I wonder, mayhap the hives were caused by fleas? Our kitties, despite all of the anti flea goo in the verse still occasionally get them, and when they do they usually give them to the carpet and upholstery. You might check the minion for buggles prior to completely writing off the couch.
I get terrible hay fever in spring, and I never thought about it, but I’ll be our leather couch helps.
“Well, I’ll be a leather couch!”
I meant to say, I’ll bet our couch helps.
LOL, Lainey! An excellent point. This is one abusive relationship I do not need.
Carat, I’ll check, but they haven’t ever had them. I think it helps that they are exclusively indoor kitties. Plus, it’s only the couch that does it. When I sit back against the cushions in short sleeves, I get a rash on the backs of my arms. None of our other furniture does it, and the cats spend more than their fair share of time on the various sleep-on-able surfaces in the house.
Katie, I’d never considered that either. Now I’m starting to wonder if that’s the route we should go. I just love the feel of a soft, upholstered couch. But it’s worth it not to be allergic to the thing.