2005-11-10

RIP, Couchie.

A moment of silence, please, for Couchie.

The houseboy and I have had the same battered, sunken, sad couch for close to 9 years, and we bought this couch USED, so there's no saying how old it actually was. One of the legs had broken off under mysterious circumstances, so we'd been propping it up with phone books.

Still, it was good couch. It witnessed many of my highly judgemental proclamations on whatever happened to be on the television. It absorbed many of my tears as I was trying to get sober. It was my island when I was sick, surrounded by a sea of snotty tissues and popped blister packs of Sudafed.

And then, when my parents announced that they were selling their house and had no need of their nice, new sofabed, how did I pay Couchie back for years of faithful service? That's right, chickens -- Couchie was unceremoniously dumped on the curb last night, left alone in the freezing rain, wondering what it did wrong to be abandoned so.

(I actually got a little weepy writing that just now. But I've been a mess for the past week or so really -- the result of the unholy one-two punch of having a cold AND my period. Like, the other night I watched some PBS show about Lucille Ball and I bawled like a little bitch at the end. Send help.)

This morning, there's a big, Couchie-shaped void in our living room.

I'm sure many people who have been to our house are applauding this dismissal of what was, to just about everyone EXCEPT me, the ugliest and most uncomfortable couch ever. The new couch will be very slick indeed, and will offer any overnight guests a comfortable place to crash.

But I still feel like a miserable, wretched heel for dumping Couchie like that.

Plus, I got no place to watch t.v. until we get the new couch this weekend.

lisamcc at 4:02 p.m.

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