20 minutes late for the midnight curfew…oh, well, what ev…
Oh, that Curry Couch (it still reeks to high heaven by the way)….
Occasionally, at my apartment complex, people will post signs in random places (laundry room, mail boxes, etc) advertising things that they are selling. Most of the time, these people are really desperate to sell because they are moving soon and so the prices are really good. Two days ago, I saw an advertisement posted on the mailbox with a picture of the curry couch. I was sold because…
1) It was in such good condition.
2) It was only 199 dollars.
I ripped off the phone number tab and called immediatly.
*SIDE NOTE: In my mind, calling about an advertised item is one of the most awkward/uncomfortable situations. This was expecially true when I called about the curry couch.
“Hi, I’m uh calling about the couch.”
“The couch?”
“Yes, the couch you advertised.”
“Oh, you mean sofa. Yes, ok.”
“Yeah….. sofa, whatever. So about that sofa….”
After I called, I walked over to look at the couch, and then I talked to my roommates and we came up with the two hundred dollars (love those ATMs, for sure, so convenient). The next day, one of my roommates and I walked over to the sellers apartment with fresh cash in our hands and excitement in our steps– we were finally getting a real, decent couch!
As we approached his apartment, we saw the concrete staircase that led to his door. Wonderful, I thought, these stairs are going to make things interesting. I just knew one of us was going to fall, and we would have to make an unfortunate trip to the ER (even though that would be an amazing story to tell later on in life, it was not something I wanted to have to deal with). We climbed the stairs and were overwhelmed with the spicy, potent aroma of Curry. We were almost take aback by how strong it was. I stepped up to the door eagerly and knocked on the door. A young Indian man cautiously opened the door and he just stared at us for a minute as I (with a little too much excitement) reminded him of who I was and of the arrangement we made. I think I was the poster child of loud, obnoxious American. Behind him was his family staring at me awkwardly.
“Uh” *shifty eyes* “I brought the money…. uh”
I almost fell like we took the couch from underneath them the way they were looking at us. Then again, maybe there was just a huge language/culture barrier. We proceeded to lift the couch described as “very light” by the Indian man, but you can ask my forearms and lower back how “very light” it was. We struggled with it out the door and down the stairs. We had to stop several times to breathe and rest our arms. I bet we looked like a spectacle–two out of shape girls huffing and puffing under the weight of a large couch as we shuffled along. The best part was that in the background, the seller was watching us out of his blinds, and I’m sure he was laughing; who wouldn’t have laughed? I thought, Why don’t you come help us, DIVA?!
We finally made it to our door, and that’s where the fun began. Both of my roommates were present, and we were all trying to figure out how to fit the curry couch in the door. The layout of our apartment makes it very difficult to move any type of large furniture inside. We must have been there for at least ten minutes trying different positions, yelling at each other, ramming into the wall. In the end, we stood it up vertically and slid it in barely. We were thrilled as we put it into position in the living room. It looked FANTASTIC. As we were admiring our work, we became all too aware of the smell permeating from it…
Great… it was too good to be true. Stinking CURRY COUCH.
P.S. Febreeze and candles aren’t working. Help.
