Leather Sofa on Craigslist (Oh, and I'm a Stalker)

We decided to get a leather sofa for the dining room. Yes, I realize how strange that reads.

Our dining room is an odd space. It has a fireplace across from the actual dining area, and adjacent to that is an extra area that leads to a sun room. We decided the extra area is where the sofa will go.

At first we didn't know what should be added to the dining room, but as we thought about my large Latino family it became clear that we'd need more seating for parties. Since this will be a place to dine, we automatically knew we'd have to go leather for easy cleanup. The idea to get a leather sofa naturally followed, especially as I developed visions of lounging on it after a meal while watching the kids play in the sun room.

So we looked around at styles and prices. To get a real, non-bonded leather sofa most times you gotta cough up some major cash. We're talking thousands of dollars. I started to notice, however, that even the nicest stuff appears to sag over time (peruse Craigslist for the saddest and the saggiest). The only kinds of sofas that didn't have this effect going on were the tufted ones because the pinning and tucking keeps things tight.

Have you noticed that the Chesterfield is making a comeback? I'm telling you, this image from my boards gets re-pinned the most. I started to think maybe this was the route I should go, but I had to be honest with myself and acknowledge that it's just a little too ornate for my taste. I then began to hope for something in the middle, like if a Chesterfield mated with a MCM lounger and made a cheap baby. . .

You can imagine how excited I was when I thought I saw what I was looking for (finally) on Craigslist. I write "thought" because the posted images weren't of great quality, but the seller assured the public that this was good quality leather. And the price, wait for it, was around $400.

Egad, I wrote to that guy so quick and did a pick-me-pick-ME dance like never before. Imagine how excited I was when he wrote back the same day to say I could check out the sofa and buy it whenever I wanted! He said it was being stored at his sister's place of business, which was located at the corner of such-and-such.

It was all mine! Right?! Wait, right? I didn't hear from him after that. I wrote back to say what times would work for us to stop by, but he didn't respond. I sent a follow-up e-mail, a hey-did-you-get-my-last-e-mail? e-mail. Nada. I started to think he sold it to someone else or was dead. I even sent a hey-just-put-me-out-of-my-misery e-mail, too.

So I went totally a little weirdo. I figured out what store was housing the sofa based on the intersecting streets he had given me. I found out the store owner's name. I typed in Google: "[Store owner name] + [First name of the seller] + sibling." It was a stab in the dark, but that word 'sibling' brought up a local newspaper article about their family and community involvement. It mentioned that the seller had a business of his own, which I then looked up and got its number.

Am I freaking you out yet? I really wanted this sofa!!!

So I dialed the number to the seller's business. As I did, I thought to myself, "Monique this is some crazy stuff you're doing. He's going to think you're stalking him! How is THAT going to make him want to sell a sofa to you?!" Before I could talk myself out of it, the seller answered. This was my response: "Oh, hey, this is Monique from Craigslist. You're probably wondering how I got your number. Gee, I think in the process of not wanting to be freaky by just showing up to your sister's place unannounced, I got all sorts of creepy by Googling your contact info." It went quite well all things considered.

I mean, all's well that ends well, right? (Don't judge me.)

So here she be.

The sofa isn't exactly ready for her closeup. We have to restuff the cushions and polish up the leather, but I think it's going to look really nice in the end. Plus, it will always remind me of this odd little Craiglist adventure. -That, and this restraining order that came in the mail, hmmmm. . .