Couch vs Elevator

One of the challenges of moving in to a new place is finding a way to make your old stuff fit into your new space.  The Goodlaffs moved from a 1600 square foot townhouse in the country to a 925-ish square foot city apartment.  Space is limited, and we have a lot of crap. 

We also had no couch.

Let me set the scene for you: one week ago, the Goodlaff army of movers (Mr. GL and I, FIL and SMIL Goodlaff) was frantically unloading our lovely little Uhaul. After several hours, we had finally found it--the indication that we had reached the back of our moving van--the couch.  As I walked back to the elevator from dropping another stack of boxes into our apartment, I peeked out one of the top floor windows to see Mr. Goodlaff and his dad (FIL) walking away from the building, couch in hand.  Um.  Wrong way, guys.  Then I saw them set it down next to the Uhaul. 

This was not good.

Apparently one of the--let's say "quirks"--with our new building is that the elevator is tiny.  And the stairwell had an un-navigable corner. And there's no freight elevator. All of these things added up to us not being able to even get the chance to try to fit our couch into our current apartment.

So, no couch.  No big deal, right? We'd go couch hunting on the weekend, and everyone would be happy.

Wrong.