sleep on the couch
Our family has been blessed by another family who has just given us a new couch. New to us, at least. It is in great condition. It sat for years in a formal living room in a very nice home. It's the kind of room where you sit only when company comes to visit. It may as well have been covered with plastic and stored for years just waiting to be presented to us.
It is the type of couch with the cascading pillows coming down the back. When you sit down, it invites you deeper into its pillowy softness. And it's long. After marriage and children have worn me down from the handsom 6' to the present nub of a man at 5'5", I can lay down and not touch the other arm rest. I can only say that if I had my perfect Thanksgiving, where I would eat my own weight in food and pie and then have a place to recline to nap and watch football games, this is IT. Open mouth, drooling napage.
So now, we fight over who gets it. It used to be the Lazy Boy recliner. With the pull of a lever, you were transformed from siting upright to an almost prone position of blissfull cottony support. Now, it is just a vantage point, a perch from which one scans the couch for the slightest movement, indicating that the present occupent is leaving; or at least rithing in pain from a full bladder not wanting to leave.
Even at night, while lying next to my wife, I think about the couch; almost a siren song wispering in the night for me to enjoy all it's pleasures. Getting sent to the couch is now pure joy.
she "do you love me?"
me "mmm"
she "well that sounds convincing."
me "no, no, no, yeah, yeah love, extreem love."
she "no you don't"
me "I love you, damn it! now go to sleep."
she "yeah, right"
me "that's it, I'm sleeping on the couch."
she "what do you mean?"
me "I can't sleep like this, the 20 questions."
she "calm down an . . .hey you want to go to the couch! You get back here now"
me "I can't hear you. And don't come out here expecting great, incredible, screaming, sweaty sex either."
she "Oh, like that will ever happen again."
me " well . . . what if I don't scream?"
For now . . .
It is the type of couch with the cascading pillows coming down the back. When you sit down, it invites you deeper into its pillowy softness. And it's long. After marriage and children have worn me down from the handsom 6' to the present nub of a man at 5'5", I can lay down and not touch the other arm rest. I can only say that if I had my perfect Thanksgiving, where I would eat my own weight in food and pie and then have a place to recline to nap and watch football games, this is IT. Open mouth, drooling napage.
So now, we fight over who gets it. It used to be the Lazy Boy recliner. With the pull of a lever, you were transformed from siting upright to an almost prone position of blissfull cottony support. Now, it is just a vantage point, a perch from which one scans the couch for the slightest movement, indicating that the present occupent is leaving; or at least rithing in pain from a full bladder not wanting to leave.
Even at night, while lying next to my wife, I think about the couch; almost a siren song wispering in the night for me to enjoy all it's pleasures. Getting sent to the couch is now pure joy.
she "do you love me?"
me "mmm"
she "well that sounds convincing."
me "no, no, no, yeah, yeah love, extreem love."
she "no you don't"
me "I love you, damn it! now go to sleep."
she "yeah, right"
me "that's it, I'm sleeping on the couch."
she "what do you mean?"
me "I can't sleep like this, the 20 questions."
she "calm down an . . .hey you want to go to the couch! You get back here now"
me "I can't hear you. And don't come out here expecting great, incredible, screaming, sweaty sex either."
she "Oh, like that will ever happen again."
me " well . . . what if I don't scream?"
For now . . .
posted by Tgears at 7:21 AM
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