The Hero performs surgery

Spurred on by complaints from our derrières and other miscellaneous body parts, which for several months have been denied their Basic Right to a Comfortable Seating Arrangement in our family room, as provided for by the Loosely Joined Association of Body Parts (pursuant to Part 3, Section IIVXCMLPRTG), the Hero and I made a spontaneous decision to buy a new sofa. This spontaneous decision is defined below.


Regular spontaneous
-Do it now


OUR spontaneous
-Do it now, but only after researching the option(s) for several days, gathering product reviews and scientific evidence, doing a best/worst analysis, engaging in endless discussion with complete strangers over the merits of the spontaneous decision, etc.


Our spontaneous decision to purchase a sofa also involved the making of a prototype to make sure the real sofa would fit through the teeny tiny door of our family room. This prototype was composed of three pieces of sturdy cardboard taped together, roughly resembling three pieces of sturdy cardboard taped together. We then endeavored to fit the prototype through the doorway. To our amazement it fit perfectly, thanks mainly to the ability of cardboard to bend. 


We assured ourselves that the actual sofa would fit, too, although it might be slightly less pliable than the cardboard. If it didn't fit, we would go to Plan B, which was to leave the sofa outside on the sidewalk in 8 inches of snow while we came up with Plan C.


After such deliberations, we "spontaneously" drove to another state to pick up our sofa from a very nice family with a very nice house, into which our own house would neatly fit about fifteen times. The fact that the sofa fit through their doorway with several inches of clearance gave us a sense of security about our own doorway. This proved to be a very false sense of security.


Actually the sofa fit through our doorway very nicely, as long as we didn't mind half of it sticking out onto the porch. Various rotations of the sofa were discussed, and then tried, although sometimes these were tried before discussion, resulting in one of us being smashed into a wall. A neighbor came to offer additional suggestions and pushing assistance, but after much effort, we simply could not convince all parts of the sofa  to enter the doorway at the same time.


The Hero announced a drastic measure. "We have to cut off the back legs," he said.


I left while surgery was performed, not being able to stomach the sight. The deed done, we were dismayed to find that the sofa still would not fit. We looked for various other sofa parts and door parts that we could remove, and finally decided to try one last rotation of the sofa before enlarging the doorway in a move that we were sure to regret.


We commenced pushing and pulling, and finally the sofa popped into the room, where it sat for some time in a reclining position while the Hero readied for reconstructive surgery on the back legs.


The sofa now resides in a place of honor, where it shall stay for as long as we live here, and perhaps beyond.