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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
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