We are on the receiving end of a new couch. Not brand new, mind you, but new to us. I mean, it may as well be new because it sat in one of those living rooms where no one goes in unless it's very important company or important event or holiday. We do not have one of those. Our living room is our living room, family room, office, homework room, TV room . . . I think you get it.
It is a very comfortable couch. It's deep so you can fit two people lying down if you want to be close. There are going to be times that will come in handy. It has thick cascading "pillows" for cushions that you sink back into. And long. You can really stretch out. Did I mention it's a very comfortable couch?
The comfortable chair used to be the recliner. With the flip of a conveniently placed handle you were gently moved to an almost prone position. Head back, feet up and supported on a comfy cushion. Sunday naps were invented just for this type of chair.
But all that is forgotten now. Now the recliner is just a seat, a perch from where one scans the couch for a place to enjoy all it's pleasures. The person sitting on the chair is liken to a vulture watching for it's next meal to expire. The slightest movement from the couch is watched carefully and with anticipation just hoping the inhabitant will will need to get up for a tasty snack or to use the bathroom. Indeed, I have spent vast periods of time on the couch writhing in pain from a very full bladder because I could see that there was "another" on the recliner. Their eyes circling the couch, waiting. Just waiting.
I have even gone so low as to use deception and dirty tricks to get on the couch. I will, with full carnal knowledge move the phone all the way across the room to make the occupier get up and relinquish their property. Just the other day I got up from my perch and went to the kitchen to get a drink.
"I'm getting a drink. Do you want something while I'm up?"
"Yeah, get me a drink, too."
"You want ice?"
"Yeah, that'd be great."
"bendy straw?"
"oh, yeah . . . yellow."
Then I walked in and sat back down on the recliner with my drink; a blue bendy straw. "Hey, where's mine?" "Oh, I left it on the counter for you." She didn't budge! She would rather go without, than relinquish her glorious spot. Can you believe her? There is no love.
A few nights ago I was trying desperately to go to sleep but she was in the mood to talk. Then it hit me. "I can't take it, woman! I'm going to sleep on the couch." "Take it easy" she said, "what is your prob . . . hey you want to go on the couch! You get back here right now mister." "I can't hear you" I said in a nice sarcastic melodious way. As I walked past the closet I grabbed my pillow and throw blanket. If you must know, yes, I have a little stash for when I get sent to the couch.
"And don't come out here thinking your going to get to me with great, incredible, screaming, sweaty sex either!"
Silence. Chirping.
"Did you hear me, beast woman?" "Oh, yeah, like that will ever happen" she shot back.
In the dark, even in the grasp of such cozy comfort, I wondered if I had fully thought through the implications of this move.
"Well . . . what if I don't scream?" Silence. Chirping.
DD
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