As I may have mentioned before, Jen got a new couch for the apartment, so we have one futon to dispose of. I asked around, and my mom wants it for her spare room. Sure, no problem, the seats fold down in the Saturn, I can transport it from JP to Lowell. No problem.
Jen and I drag all the various and sundry futon parts out into the driveway and begin the arduous process of shoving them into my itty-bitty Saturn coupe (with convenient fold-down seats). The frame? No problems. The mattress? Oh, it can bite me. First, the thing is heavier than a dead body. (Not that I know how heavy a dead body is.) Second, it doesn't want to go quietly into that good Saturn. Oh, no. It becomes like a cat on its way to a carrier: Suddenly, it's all legs, splayed out in 800 different directions, all of which makes it impossible to shove it into the back of aforementioned Saturn (with the convenient fold-down seats). Jen is determined to wrestle it into submission, so mainly I stand back and laugh quietly. She finally beats it down, and we both step back to contemplate the wonder that is a futon jammed into the back of a Saturn coupe.
Sure, I can't see out the back window, and my seat isn't quite where I like it, but it works. Lowell, ho!
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