Step One: Goodbye Granny Suite
After conquering the Pyramids of Poop, I figured it was time for a facelift. Out with salmon valances and mini blinds, in with sunshine. Easy first step, pull them down. Suddenly, my ceilings looked taller, the corners less gloomy, and… oh hey, fur bunnies hiding beside the couch.
But then my eyes landed on the real monster: salmon shag carpet. Damp from dogs, water geysers, and life in general. I’ve never liked carpet, and now it was personal. Carpet had to go.
Enter the Couch From Hell
Problem: the couch sat on top of the carpet. And not just any couch… a billion-pound hide-a-bed built, apparently, into the RV itself. The slide-out gave it a permanent throne.
Where to put it while I worked? The three feet of “living space” opposite held my desk, stereo, TV, recliner, and dog crate. Not exactly roomy.
Step one: get rid of the awful pink recliner. Built from lead, shoved through the door by sorcery, but somehow, I muscled it out. Scratched some walls in the process. Future reno project.
With that space cleared, I began sliding the couch into the middle of the room, inch by inch, climb over, inch by inch again. Finally, room enough to rip carpet. Except, why does this carpet run under the walls? Did they lay it before building the trailer? Was it stapled down the center? And wrapped under the slide lip? Ugh. The couch had to go outside.
Stubborn Meets Slapstick
Alone and stubborn (two traits I should probably list on my gravestone), I tipped the couch on its end to save space. Pro tip: strap the bed shut first. Oops.
Sproing! The hide-a-bed shot open like a bear trap, springing into the kitchen with vengeance. After a few colorful words, I wrangled it back, bungeed it shut, and tried again.
Slide, scrape, shove. Carpet in the kitchen? Why not. The couch snagged on everything like it was glued down. I inched it toward the door. But, surprise! The couch was wider at one end (not really, but it seemed that way). Now wedged in the doorway, I’d effectively sealed myself inside my own RV.
At this point, I wanted to cry. Finally, I caved and called a friend. With help, sweat, and a lot of shoving, we got it out. The couch sat outside, and I sat on it with a well-earned beer.
The Great Reveal
Day two: the rest of the carpet came out. Living room, kitchen, slide-out, all bare. I laid laminate flooring, admired my handiwork, and marveled at how spacious it felt. Of course, it helped that I had no couch.
A friend offered to buy the behemoth, and I scored a newer, lighter couch. Victory! But then the flashbacks hit: how the heck would I get this one in?
“Easy,” my new friend said. “Just take out the window.”
Excuse me? The four-by-six-foot living room window?
Turns out, it actually was easy. Out came the window, in came the couch, back went the window. Done.
Lesson Learned
In an RV, even the smallest project can feel like a demolition derby. Do not… I repeat, do not… attempt furniture moves alone. And sometimes, the window really is easier than the door.
