It Was an Ugly Couch Anyway And Other Thoughts on Moving Forward

Elizabeth Passarella and her husband decide to sell their two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, and the first problem is the couch. It is a nine-foot, plaid, velour-covered hand-me-down from her father, who has recently died, and she is oddly unwilling to part with it. She cuts off the fabric to keep and throws the rest away.

That small act sets the pattern for a collection of personal essays about what to hold on to and what to discard: habits, attitudes, friends, even homes. Passarella writes a column for Southern Living, and the tone here is candid and funny.

The pieces move between practical upheaval and emotional weight. She forms a strange relationship with an elderly neighbor whose apartment she hopes to buy. She also looks at her own stubborn positions on motherhood and therapy.

A family health crisis runs through the book and raises more questions than it answers. Passarella keeps the humor close even there, and the essays keep returning to the idea that some light gets in when life feels stuck or heavy. Reading it is a mix of laughing and a few quieter, sadder moments.