As mentioned before, our sofas are recycled. Hand-me-downs. Worn hand-me-downs, in fact. Literally. So bad, I’m ashamed to post a picture of how it was exactly.
I had already repaired the cushions from the smaller sofa. The big sofa, that one I covered with a blanket, to hide the facts. See no evil, repair no evil. But I did know what was underneath that blanket, of course. And there was this little nagging voice in my head (although it could also have been my hubby) repeating the same sentence over again. Repair that sofa – repair that sofa – repair that sofa.
The pattern was lying around somewhere, I had drawn that a while ago using newspapers and scotch tape. Not much after that, procrastination hit me in the face again. Right up until Easter, when I got my act together. That’s the downside of using newspaper: the date kind of rubs it all in your face (September 2014. There, I said it).
And would you look at that, the cushions have returned to their former glory! Up to the next level: the big cover for both sofas. I wonder when I’ll find the courage to start on those. Any bets?