Skip to main content

A Tale of Two Couches

My husband and I have had the same hand-me-down set of furniture since we married 7 years ago. I was thrilled to get it. At the time, we watched t.v. from the comfort of an air mattress. The big puffy upholstered furniture with it’s lavender and coral patches was a dream come true.

If that furniture could talk. It’s the place where my nephew slept during weekend visits and where he threw up in the middle of the night and my dear husband soldiered his way through cleaning up an erupting five year old. We snuggled there watching The Simpsons and Seinfeld and countless rented videos that we would later debate about. I’ve written my life story, graded papers, and written essays all from the comfort of the right-side corner. It’s been the stage for some bloody battles and dear conversations. Our infirmary when too sick to stay in the same bedroom for fear of spreading germs. Our therapy room in the wee hours of the morning. Our dining table during the Superbowl and 24 finales. It’s been sneezed on, farted on, cried on, jumped on. And it’s been through 3 different room decors. There’s a lot of life there.

I love my couch…with all it’s cat scratch marks, coffee stains, and butt impressions. It’s still the best seat in the house. I can’t imagine living my life in fear of scuff marks and food stains on my furniture. I lied. Yes, I can, especially when in the middle of consoling someone, I was told to please find somewhere else to sit so I wouldn’t spill anything on the couch. What’s the point of having a comfy place to sit at home if I can’t enjoy eating a bowl of chocolate pudding on it? For one thing, I have enough practice now to be able to eat a bowl of chocolate pudding without spilling it. For another, it’s just a freakin’ couch. This is why God created Scotchguard on the eighth day. He knew after watching us rest that we needed something to protect us from the ravages of livin’ it up.

Real life doesn’t happen in a museum. Life is messy…like chocolate ice cream on a summer afternoon. Sometimes it spills over to the furniture. And sometimes there are more important things to worry about than turning over the couch cushion to hide the punch stain.

Comments

Rebecca Jeffries-Hyman said…
I love this! I thank God for the hand me down couches that made my childhood home a "spillable" place!! I still see that place as the place where I'm loved in spite of my spills.
7:38 AM
frabjouspoet said…
And I thank God that I didn't grow up around plastic covered couches. Ever sat on one?
2:58 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tough As Nails

I found "The Chub" last night. This is a small, thick spiral notebook that I had carried around with me for several weeks last winter and spring. Its sole purpose was to be an immediate reservoir for any brilliant ideas I had during the day. The only thing I ever wrote in there (besides grocery lists and bill schedules) was during my family's reunion-birthday-anniversary cruise last January. My words were interesting, and I clearly remembered writing them on the little boat that took my aunt, sister, and cousin to go snorkeling in the Bahamas. The funny part was that I wrote about how the breeze was making the weariness "seep from my bones". I read it yesterday while I was home from work. That is, after I was sent home for nearly fainting during a class. Apparently, the look of my skin was so bad that my students thought I was pulling a Halloween prank. While driving myself home, I was thinking about the recent events that led me to the afternoon and how embarra
1 comment
Read more

The Transformation Begins

Do you ever feel like your life is a movie? I hope so because I certainly do, complete with an occasional out-of-body experience and a soundtrack. Right now, I hear Journey in the background and see myself out running each morning, conquering the evil vacuum cleaner, and throwing away my old flannel shirt. The last few days were interesting. My husband and I had few good fights...and lots of laughs. I can't help but think they were related. I know they are. The fights were about establishing boundaries. We finished our budget for June and updated our to do list. At the end of the day, he was completed something he had to have done, and I was working on final edits for my book. I'm really proud of us. We looked at our situation together, set some goals, and we reached them. I'm really proud of him, too. He's the kind of man who doesn't stop until he's completed what he had in mind. I love that tenacity. I guess that's what makes us a good match. I see the big
4 comments
Read more

Frustrated Readers Make Great Fans

I haven’t felt this betrayed by a story line since Neo learned that not only was he not the first person to challenge the Matrix, but he was part of the plan all along. Even though I was sorely disappointed in what appeared to be a cop-out story line, I can understand the logic in that disappointing plot twist. I can’t say the same for Stephenie Meyer’s conclusion to her wildly popular “Twilight” series. Look, I’ve read each of the first three books at least twice, and my grad school entrance paper was a character analysis of Edward Cullen. I loved these books. I read “New Moon” and “Eclipse” in a single day. I’ve been discussing the plot lines and characters with my students for the last two years. It was a long wait for this final book. And a huge part of me wishes I was still waiting. It was that much of a letdown. I’m still debating just how to tiptoe through my inevitable conversations with students about this part of the “Twilight” saga. My students were embarrassed enough by th
5 comments
Read more