Our old house, the Little Pink House from two centuries ago that we lived in until last week, was quirky. Quirky in a lot of really cool ways. Like the way that there were brick chimneys going up through the middle of several rooms. No fireplaces, just chimneys. And the way that the ceilings slanted in the upstairs bedrooms. And the way that the super steep, formerly-attic stairs split into a T at the top of the landing forcing you to either go left or right.
The downside of the quirkiness was that the chimneys caused you to have to arrange your furniture in an odd way. The slanted ceilings meant you couldn't put anything taller than 3 feet against the side walls. And the T at the top of the stairs meant you couldn't bring up any large furniture that wasn't as flexible as macaroni--it just wouldn't turn those corners.
A few years ago we got a couch. A friend that owed Big Daddy some money and had a Chinese importing business offered to pay him in couches. So we looked at the color swatches and ordered a beautiful soft butter yellow, microfiber sectional for our bonus room. It arrived a few weeks later. And as we opened it and tried to remove the school bus yellow packing around the couch, we realized that WAS the couch. So, not the color we'd planned. And then we realized the bigger problem: that T at the top of the stairs. A lot of lifting, twisting and maneuvering by strong and spatially gifted people managed to get all but one piece of the couch around that corner and into the bonus room. But the chaise longue part of the sectional would not budge, not with any amount of pushing, pulling, turning, or swearing. So finally, in desperation, Big Daddy removed the top two stairs (carpet and all) to get that stupid couch in. Then he rebuilt the stairs and recarpeted them. We decided that yellow couch would be staying with the house. We would not be moving it out again. The new owners of the future, whoever they would be, would inherit this couch, like it or not. Or that couch would have to come out in pieces.
Flash forward six years... the new soon-to-be owners of our house do not want our Chinese, school bus yellow sectional.
Ni how, old friend. Ni how.