I hauled our old couch to the dump. Boy, did my husband have a major freak – out! He started yelling, “You threw away the plan?!”
When Tom saw the empty space where our old couch used to be, panic was written all over his face. He said, “Please tell me you didn’t…” But it was already too late.
I had been pestering Tom for months to get rid of that old couch. I would say, “Tom, when are you going to take the couch out? It’s on the verge of falling apart!”
He would mumble, “Tomorrow,” without even looking up from his phone. Or he’d say, “Next weekend. I really mean it this time.”
But here’s a spoiler: tomorrow never arrived.
So, last Saturday, after seeing that moldy old piece of furniture taking up half of our living room for yet another week, I had had enough. I rented a truck and dragged that thing out by myself and took it straight to the dump. When I got back, I was pretty proud of myself.
When Tom got home later, he barely made it to the entryway. His eyes went wide when he saw the brand – new couch I had bought. For a moment, I thought he was going to thank me or at least crack a smile.
But instead, he looked around in shock. He said, “Wait… what’s this?”
I smiled and motioned towards the couch. I said, “Surprise! I finally got rid of that hideous thing. Doesn’t it look great?”
His face turned pale, and he stared at me as if I had done something terribly wrong. He said, “You took the old couch… to the dump?”
I said, “Well, yes. You said you’d do it for months, Tom. It was revolting!”
He just stared at me, panic flashing across his face. He said, “Are you serious? You threw away the plan?!”
I asked, “What plan?”
He took a shaky breath and mumbled to himself. He said, “No, no, no… This can’t be happening.”
“Tom!” I interrupted. I started to feel a bit panicky myself. I said, “What are you talking about?”
