Hello! Kylee here. I recently shared progress on our townhouse and, as promised, I’m back to tell the story of how we managed to get our two couches into the new living room. If you’ve ever moved into a small home (or live with a very frugal spouse), you might recognize this saga.
In our old basement apartment—affectionately called The Cave—we had a red leather couch and a matching loveseat that originally belonged to my grandparents. They’re well-made pieces and served us wonderfully for five years, but they were never my first choice stylistically. When we moved into the townhouse I was eager to start fresh and imagined a new sofa or sectional that fit the space perfectly.
I spent hours hunting for the ideal sofa. My husband, Lance, on the other hand, was determined not only to remove the red couches from the apartment but to get them up the narrow stairs of our new home. Lance is practical and frugal; the idea of spending thousands of dollars on a West Elm sectional when we had two perfectly serviceable leather couches seemed unnecessary to him.
I doubted the larger couch would ever make it out of the apartment, let alone up to the second floor of the townhouse, but I entertained the idea so we could at least say we tried. If keeping the couches was truly a necessity, then at least it wasn’t reckless.
Part One: Out of the apartment
Moving day arrived and the extraction began. After getting stuck in the elevator for nearly an hour, twisting and turning the couch every which way, pausing to regroup and nearly denting the elevator ceiling in the process, we somehow managed to get it into the U-Haul with only a few small scuffs in the leather. It was a miracle; I still don’t fully understand how it happened.
Even after that success, I remained unconvinced the couches would make it up the townhouse stairs. I began to accept that we might still need a new sofa. Lance, however, remained optimistic. “Ye of little faith,” he teased.
Part Two: Into the… garage.
Once we arrived at the townhouse we tried maneuvering the loveseat around a tricky corner and up the stairs with help from friends. It became clear the loveseat wouldn’t make the climb, so it went into the garage for the time being. I paid my sympathies to Lance and suggested we could list the pieces on Craigslist, then continued looking at sectionals online.
Lance hadn’t given up. The next day my grandpa—who shares Lance’s tenacity—came over to help with the sofa. The attempt looked perilous; everyone feared for their safety as they pushed and pulled the loveseat up the steep, narrow stairs. Despite the drama, they succeeded and the loveseat made it upstairs.
After that victory, the couch stayed in the garage while we considered our options. I offered Lance my condolences again, but also praised his effort. With a loveseat in place, we could settle in and figure out a permanent plan.
Part Three: A change of heart
Weeks passed and we got comfortable with the smaller seating. When I raised the idea of buying something new, Lance surprised me by growing more confident about getting the larger couch inside. I gave him an ultimatum: two weeks to solve it, or the couches were going on Craigslist.
Part Four: The final attempt
Determined, Lance recruited a crew of friends for one last go. They spent hours at the bottom of the stairs trying to twist the big red couch around the corner to no avail. It looked hopeless—until someone suggested hoisting it in from the balcony.
The balcony idea sounded insane: it was high off the ground and the sliding door opening was narrow. Still, the group rallied. At one point the couch was raised from below while those above tried to pull it in. There weren’t enough hands to complete the lift, so friends positioned themselves to help from outside.
There we were, gripping a dangling couch with no support beneath—an entertaining sight for our new neighbors. Just when it seemed the couch might slip away, the rest of the crew arrived and together they leveraged it over the balcony. Suddenly, the couch was on the balcony.
We paused for a brief celebratory photo. As I suspected, the couch still wouldn’t fit through the screen door, so the team removed the stationary portion of the door. After some careful work, it came off—and the couch slid through into the living room. Another small miracle, met with cheers. Bella immediately tried out the couch while wearing her cone of shame.
In the end, determination and teamwork won out. Lance was delighted with the accomplishment, and for now the couches stay. I’m not upset—after adding a rug and a few accessories, they fit the room far better than I expected. Maybe someday I’ll get that West Elm sectional, but today isn’t that day.
Soon I’ll share another frugal adventure: how we cut our queen-size box spring in half to get it up two flights of stairs to our bedroom.
