Today, after exactly 363 days, the year of the couch has officially come to a close.
Last October, when floods threatened Bangkok, we moved every last piece of furniture upstairs before we skipped town and headed north. In late November, when the scare was over, we slowly started putting things to right. We moved one of our sectional couches back to its rightful place in the living room just after returning to our (thankfully safe and dry) home. For some unexplainable reason, the other one has been in our bedroom ever since. For a year.
This couch was the first thing I thought of when I heard about the 31 days projects. It would have been my Oct. 1 project, but I couldn't move it down the stairs by myself. (I tried!) After 22 days of purging, organizing, and tidying, today I brought up the couch with Whim. He took care of it during Lennon's nap. It was that easy.
Even though I didn't actually move the couch myself, I still give myself partial credit for a) not nagging about it (major victory for me- Sorry, babe!) and b) making enough changes around the house that it seemed worthwhile to him to make an effort, too. How could I blame him for not doing it sooner, when the couch was just one of a thousand things that needed to be done, and we weren't working on any of them?
But the most interesting thing of all happened when L woke up. As I was carrying him to our room to show him the transformation, I knew with absolute certainty what was going to happen. He wasn't going to like it. Being two, and still rummy from his nap, the missing couch was going to freak him out and make him cry. And it did.
And even though he and his brother were playing cars and lounging in their new-found, couch-free playspace within a few minutes, at first the change freaked him out a little bit. He had come to accept the couch in the bedroom as normal, and when it was gone, it felt scary.
And not to be too philosophical, but that is really true for me, too. Even when changes are for the better, they still freak me out a little.