This week, I tried to hide it with a slipcover. I know I promised my blogfans a detailed story of my slipcovering adventures. As it turns out the story is rather short. Slipcover arrived. I did my best. But, like the beating of the telltale heart, the couch refused to be hid.
Most slipcovers are made for sofas. I need one for an upholstered continent. I wish I would have taken a picture of my handy work, but I didn't. A mental image will have to do: Picture an obese woman wearing a tube top. Picture this tube top being visible only where it covers the most essential part of her upper torso. The rest of the tube top is swallowed up in rolls of fat - front fat, back fat, side fat, every variety of fat the human body can offer. Picture the thin slit of tube top visible from the rear, overlapped by flaps of back breasts. It's not the fault of the tube top. It's giving all it can. And so it was with the slipcover.
In the end I decided to spruce up the blue monster with a couple new throw pillows. I think they make quite a difference.