How NOT to Dispose of a LoveSac
As a single bachelor living alone, I thought it prudent to purchase a 6′ LoveSac. Craigslist revealed a seller in the local area and using my buddy’s Blazer I headed out to get the thing. I am not sure people understand just how BIG a lovesac is. It took Bruce and I the better part of 30 minutes to get the thing from the Blazer into the house. All the while he is cracking jokes about touching my lovesac and how big it is. He is the older one for the record.
When Becca moved in it became a point of contention. Townhouses in DC are not the largest floorplans in America and her “adult” furniture needed to have space made available. I fought it. I was an Adult and I had a LoveSac. Of course I can’t say that without giggling, but this adult fought her advances on my giant beanbag. It was my final holdout that required moving my Office into the smallest room in the house and the lovesac taking the space of my once awesome techpad. The new office is pink. Bright Pink. I wanted to hold on to the LoveSac that bad.
At some point in a man’s life we learn to let things go. This morning as I conversed with Becca prior to her work day I mentioned a surprise. “Oh, ordering pizza tonight?” I smiled and told her the surprise was going to be much better. Mistake number 1.
I walked into the room armed with a bundle of large trashbags and box-cutters. In my mind this was going to be as simple as cutting a hole and gathering the fluffs as they fell from the opening. Wrong on so many levels. With each hand thrust in and gathering of fluffs many more shot like a cannon out and into the room. The static electricty mixed with differences in pressure was turning my lovesac into a loveattack as each little fuzz ball flung against the objects in the room. I watched in horror as my clothes and skin were covered and not so much as a dent in the overall size of the lovesac.
<figcaption class="wp-caption-text">Floor and I both covered</figcaption></figure>
It was at this moment I gazed over the beast with sweaty palms and remembered back to the woman I bought it from. “It came in this little box, it was amazing!” COMPRESSION! I ran down the stairs to retrieve zipcords. I figured if anything I would wrap the remnants with the zip ties to bring it to a manageable size. There was some success with this tactic. I could now at least move the thing around the room without falling over myself. I considered at this point just compressing more and more till the thing would fit in the trash can outback. I stepped away to head down stairs and gather more cords when I realized that the result of my plan looked like a dead body. I imagined walking down the stairs with what appeared to be a dead body and dumping it in the back yard. This would not help relations with my neighbors.
<figcaption class="wp-caption-text">Large dead body or LoveSac</figcaption></figure>
Breaking for lunch gave me some relief and time to reevaluate the situation. This wasn’t going well and my surprise was turning into more of a CF if you read me. I decided to call it a day and wish for Becca’s good graces when she hit the door and saw the mess. With the body, errr, lovesac nestled as best as possible in the trash can and the room swept, I called it a day. Almost. The box-cutter was tormenting me from the ledge. “Cut me nick, cut me good” and who am I to say no? I ripped into the bottom of the lovesac that was shoved into the trashcan and let it pour out. HAHAHAH! Only the lovesac was much more full than I imagined and there wasn’t space to fit it all. The wind now whipping throws the lid against my head and it was decidedly a shitty day now.
I decided it was best to grease the skids before Becca got home: “Remember that its the thought that counts with your surprise. I bit off WAY more than I can chew and need some serious assistance. Esh!”
The lovesac is now on the back porch. I suppose 3 or more trash days and it will be empty and gone. Becca’s surprise wasn’t all I had hoped for, but it was a surprise for both of us none the less.
Gallery Below of other pictures
