Her Couch

November Writing Challenge Day 30

Her couch. 

My couch? Well, my couch is dark brown cushy leather with nailhead studs, scattered with red damask pillows and a monogrammed blanket. It will take you hostage on chilly winter days or rainy summer ones. It is slowly beginning to show wear that I like to think gives it a little character. I say this because I can’t afford to buy new stuff for at least five more years. When it was new, if I sat back on it, my feet wouldn’t touch the floor. I’m short, sure, but it made me feel so petite. Now I’ve wallered (wallowed, I suppose is the correct spelling) it down and the cushions have compacted some. I remember picking out the furniture before a bithday dinner one night. It wasn’t my birthday, it was one to be endured because my friend’s family was coming and I couldn’t get my drink on. So I pre-gamed with a different friend. Somehow shopping for living room furniture seemed like the thing to do to fill the little bit of time before supper. I knew what I wanted, so it didn’t take but a quick perusal of the showroom until I happened upon the set. I got a “free” TV with my purchase and my salesman could not understand when I flipped my hand over the choices. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” I told him. He was completely bewildered until Brandi told him that I have no desire to watch TV, that I read books for entertainment. Was he not paying attention when I picked out the chair and ottoman for my library? Meanwhile, I was  preoccupied with selecting lamps. Yes, I was at the chain store Rooms to Go. I probably won’t ever darken their doorway again. They employ some of the most aggravating people I have ever encountered. This woman calls me at work to try to sell me an extended warranty. I let her know in no uncertain terms that I was at work to pay for the said furniture in the timely fashion they expected and I did not appreciate the interruption, that I had no children or dogs and that if the furniture fell apart before the regular warranty was up, we would all be on a first name basis and not in a friendly way. 

Wells Fargo does lots of 12-month-same-as-cash financing; you should probably look into it for any major purchases. I use them all the time. 

Anyway, back to the lamps. It took me three times as long to decide on them as it did my bulky furniture. What is with all the art deco pieces? What happened to the normal shaped lamps that actually resembled lamps? Not a lamp in disguise as a sculpture from the MoMA? 

The two hoodlums that delivered my furniture hit my gate and I didn’t know it until the next day because HEL-LO I stayed home to lounge on my new couches. I couldn’t figure out how they managed to hit it, anyway. The truck wasn’t THAT big. They didn’t have to back out, they’d made a circle out front. When I called the store to let them know, they said they were sorry if that was the case, but if I couldn’t prove it, too bad so sad. We raised and cocked the hinges to get it working again. 

Anyway, once all the pieces were installed per my specifications, of course I preferred the longer couch (or sofa, as they’re known up north). But things change when you get married and your husband needs the room to stretch out. So I have relinquished my favorite piece to curl into the corner of the loveseat. It’s fine. I have the table. It’s my spot. Sheldon would be envious.

It’s funny how people have always tried to tell me what I want and don’t want for one reason or another, and I have always been abundantly happy with my choices. They said I didn’t need a big truck, the fuel would kill me. I’ve always been thankful for Patsy-what she lacks in looks she makes up for in ground clearance. My paint choices- I’m not even going to go into it. My furniture-I shouldn’t get leather, it’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It has to be cleaned. Yes, well, I hope the heating and air conditioning in my home continue to regulate the temperature of my couches. And that’s what snuggly blankets are for. And as far as cleaning, don’t you have to suck the dust off cloth couches? And they show wear in how the fabric gets squooshed flat and worn off. So I’m constantly defending my opinions. I suppose if someone were offering to pay for my furniture, my paint, my truck, and were going to be living here looking at it or sitting on it every day, or sharing custody of Patsy, then their opinions might be taken into consideration. But they’re not. Thank God. I wouldn’t be so defensive but it was every time I turned around until I got married. Like I wasn’t capable of making a decision without a man in my life. Give me a break. 

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