Ah, the old sofa*, the trusty old family, post college sofa. Handed down from generation to needy generation until you are grown up enough to be able to afford your own furniture. This sofa was one of those "I don't know how they got it in (broken walls and light fittings actually) but I sure as hell have some good ideas about getting it out! Today is the day of your destruction!
Kitten puts up a bit of suffragette style protest, as I began to cut through the fabric to locate the wooden slats she refused to get off the aging couch.
Der Vetter Kevin, sleep deprived following the arrival of wee Emerson gets handy with a circular saw. I was a bit disconcerted when I thought I saw him begin to doze off mid destruction.
The tattered remains of many a night of drunken slumber, of pints of Ben n'Jerrys, of Law and Order marathons.
At last, out on the street, Brooklyn style.
*The nasty Tex-mex pattern was long ago covered by a much more tasteful suede cover.