Call it the Laugh-of-the-Month, the “free-couch switcheroo.”
What?
The best way to explain the switcheroo is to start at the beginning.
Our oldest grandson has a math diploma. Now, Wyatt is pursuing a UGA environmental engineering degree. The 22-year-old lives in an apartment in one of our barns. He brought his dorm-room recliner from Young Harris. But he’d like a couch, too. His budget said, “No.”
Besides, Wyatt’s SUV needed a set of tires.
Still, his mind hadn’t turned loose of the couch thing.
One day, I heard Wyatt’s new tires crunching gravel outside my office. Stepping inside, he announced, “Grandpa, there a couch in someone’s front yard. It has a ‘FREE’ sign on it.”
“Yeah, I saw that, too.”
“It’s leather. I think I can clean it up.”
“Well?”
“Could I use the farm truck and go get it?”
“Sure, but wouldn’t loading it on a trailer be easier?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How about let’s go hitch the small trailer?”
Pretty soon, we were trucking to Colbert.
When we pulled onto the edge of the free-couch yard, the big brown sofa looked pretty good. But when I got closer, I could tell why it was being offered for free. Most of the leather was in tolerable shape. Some spots weren’t. And behind the cushions was evidence that a white dog had enjoyed the sectional-sitting apparatus, a bunch.
Wyatt was not demurred.
After all, it was free.
And he could clean it up.
Back at the farm, we toted the two sections and the stack of cushions into the barn and placed them outside his apartment.
“I’ll work on this after exams,” he said.
The next day, I walked across the road to check on the kitchen-remodeling project of our neighbors. My friend said, with a chuckle, “I saw you and Wyatt hauling that couch yesterday.”
One of the carpenters piped up, “Are you talking about that couch in Colbert?”
“Yep, Wyatt wanted a couch.”
The carpenter had eyed it, too.
The contractor spoke up, “If Wyatt needs a couch, I have one that I’ll give him. I’ll send you a picture tonight.”
When the photo popped up on my phone, I showed it to Wyatt.
“Grandpa, that looks pretty good.”
“It’s being steam-cleaned. Free couch and free delivery.”
That triggered the country-roadside-couch switcheroo.
“Grandpa, think you could help me load this leather couch?”
“Sure thing, Wyatt. But you need to make a big ‘FREE’ sign first.”
Fifteen minutes later, the two-piece couch was sitting beside the road with a cardboard sign duct-taped to the leather.
“How long will it take, Wyatt, for the couch to get a new home?”
“Grandpa, it won’t take long.”
He’d witnessed our neighbors use the “FREE” strategy to dispose of truckloads of unwanted items. Everything from dishes to ceiling fans, even concrete blocks.
Wyatt was right.
Within hours, I caught a glimpse of a pickup—loaded with a brown leather couch—headed toward Colbert, or it could have been Comer.
The other new-to-him free couch will be “switcheroo-ed” any day now.
With a grin, Wyatt said, “‘Free’ works, Grandpa.”
And with the switcheroo, we got a bonus.
“Free” laughable memories.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
