The litter box had been put off too long, I’m afraid. And Patches, the prodigious pee-er that she is, apparently decided to just hold it until another option came along. Or maybe she just peed on our couch on purpose. She was, after all, shut out of the bedroom.
Whatever the reason, this officially marked the SECOND time since the move that she had aroma-fied our microfiber couch. The first one wasn’t too bad, though it took us ages to get around to trying to deal with the smell. This second one, though, now meant that two of our three cushions smelled of cat pee.
Ever since we started looking at houses, I’ve been eyeing the couch with increasing frustration.
It was a great buy, but that was 5 years ago and a lot of spots have started to get shiny. Between two cats, the picks and pulls were starting to be noticeable. And, of course, there’s just the desperate desire for nice, new stuff when you move into a home. (Aka, when you can least afford it.)
I had put that desire on the back burner, even before our emergency fund imploded. But this was sort of the last straw.
I say “sort of” because I am well aware that the smart thing to do would be to wash the seat cushions and spray the hell out of the foam underneath — possibly even replacing it if need be. But I’ve gotten some extra advertising money recently and the bonus from my boss helped. So I wanted to at least poke around and pretend we might be able to afford something new.
After stopping in a few shops, I was very discouraged about those chances. And I was mentally steeling myself for dealing with urine-soaked foam.
We made one last tour on Wednesday, trying not to scream at the antsy salespeople who followed us around the store like we were going to pocket a couch and run away. (Really, they were just desperate for sales, it seemed.)
Our last stop was at Mor Furniture, where they at least had the decency to have snacks and soda. Even better, those refreshments were kitty corner to every frugal gal’s dream section: clearance.
As we inspected the items there, and were pleasantly surprised by the prices, the salesman (who now had a place in our hearts for alerting us to snacks and for hanging back and not duct-taping himself to us) told us everything in that room was 50% off.
Let me clarify. Not 50% off the retail price. 50% off the already-discounted price.
Apparently, the clearance center was so full — we had to push some couches up a bit just so we could wiggle in and try others — that the store just wanted the stuff gone.
Tim and I quickly found a sofa we liked (originally $999.99) that would be $325. Tim found a recliner — something he’s long coveted — that was $190 after markdown. Best of all, both items are leather, which means it will be better guarded against soaking up urine.
So, I guess if Patches had to sabotage our couch, she chose a fortuitous time to do it.
Before anyone objects: Yes, I know this was not the most frugal option. Ideally, i would have salvaged the old furniture, diligently dealing with cat pee and hunting down foam in the right size and shape (or someone to cut it to the right dimensions).
But I didn’t want to do that. The couch wasn’t going to be even remotely attractive by the end of two years. It was starting to look a little sheepish already. So we would be replacing the thing soon anyway.
So I decided to suck it up and invest in a long-term solution, rather than deal with the hassle of extending its life by about a year.
Frugal? Meh, probably not. At best, you could say we found a good deal. Kind of the same, but not really. Nonetheless, I feel confident that we made the right choice. The furniture was delivered the next day and looks great.
But I still plan to keep an eye on ole Patches…