F. Uck. Fuck.

I asked Shecky the home inspector to kindly measure the width of the door frame for little ol' me whilst I was there today. He said 33". Now, I know that, when it comes to measurements, men tend to be less than truthful. As I am 28 and weigh 115 pounds. Nevertheless. This means that my new $1,500 couch will not fit. After a contemplative (to be read as: angry) glass of Cabernet-Shiraz, I called Michael to ask if he would like to use my beautific and sassy couch should it not fit into my new condo. He asked me why I thought it wouldn't fit. I said it was because the home inspector measured the door and I measured my couch and the two just weren't compatible. We continued on with our conversation for a while and eventually it came about that Shecky had said 33". And Michael started laughing. Apparently doors come in sizes like 32" and 34", so the doorjamb would've had to have been slightly larger than 34". Which bodes well (or slightly better, at least). Again: why did I just pay this guy $300?
The. Couch. Will. Fit. The sweaty, brawny men that I hire for this particular task will just have to push harder and angle it just so and keep at it until it's in and I'm totally satisfied.