Loveseat Free to a Good Home

We have a loveseat that is “well-worn” ““ it’s been flopped on by three kids and three cats ““ but it’s not “worn-out.” We rearranged rooms over the summer and now we don’t have a place to put it, so we are trying to figure out what to do with it. It’s free; somebody just has to be able to transport it from our house.

But considering the difficulty we’ve had trying to find it a new home, I’ve discovered that there’s as much demand for a pilled Southwestern-motif loveseat as VHS tapes or a five-year-old computer.

Because I’m a compulsive cleaner-outer, once we decided that we didn’t need the loveseat anymore I just wanted to be rid of it”¦pay someone with a pickup truck to get it to the dump and then push it off the ledge. No wonder Steve’s worried about what I plan to do with him when he ceases to be useful.

However, Steve, always the marketer, believes that there’s a market for anything with intrinsic value and as he pointed out, if the new owner didn’t mind some thin fabric and imbedded cat hair, the springs in that loveseat could support a lot more butts for quite a few more years. He suggested posting it on our church’s website in the hope that someone had a college-age child who was setting up an apartment who would find our used loveseat preferable to sitting on the floor.

But that would mean that people who I regularly see when I’m wearing my Sunday best would come to our house and inspect a ratty piece of furniture that 15 minutes earlier had been in our house. How embarrassing that would be if they deemed it too ugly or worn out. I could practically hear them in their car as they drove away, “Can you believe they had that piece of junk in their house. I would have expected better from them.”

Since I wanted to avoid any potential judgment about my standards of home décor, we posted a listing for it on that mecca of anonymous transactions, Craig’s List. We’ve had no inquiries for our loveseat. Hard to believe that there isn’t a Delta Frat House somewhere in the area that doesn’t need another sofa for its Pledge room.

Our daughter suggested that we put it out by the curb with a “free” sign on it and hope that someone would take it. That might work if we lived in San Francisco, but in the suburbs of Sonoma County, there aren’t many pickup trucks cruising the streets gleaning loveseats from cul-de-sacs.

I’m even hesitant to call the Salvation Army to come pick it up. Three years ago, I called them so I could donate the matching sofa. The driver spent about 15 minutes inspecting it and then grudgingly decided it was barely worth taking. If they show up this time and refuse the loveseat, that’s going to hurt. Ouch”¦rejected by the Salvation Army.

This blog my be my last hope for finding a place for our loveseat. It’s your for the asking.

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