Tragic Sandwich

Monday morning I folded the sofa bed back up and discovered that one of the legs has broken.

Sadness.

We’ll have to buy a replacement; in the meantime, we’ll be jury-rigging the broken leg. If we don’t, how will we get Baguette to nap on the weekend? But I’m a bit sad, because I do love this couch, and it’s only about 13 years old. That doesn’t seem that old for a couch.

But nostalgia won’t weld metal, and last night Mr. Sandwich and I agreed that it was time for a “sofa fund.”

Come on, tax refund!