So-fa So Good

Yesterday I said goodbye to the family couch.

After 32 years of stalwart dedication, this unapologetic voyeur has been used as a child-launch trampoline/fort/ship, witnessed a multitude of 3 a.m. angsts and rambunctious soccer parties, and served as a bed for visitors as well as some in-the-doghouse nights.

The legs once became a flower press when I had this bright idea of starting a new hobby, and for the past two years, has secured my passport when a leg became a little wobbly. 

It has hosted tacos, tequila and love.

But there comes a time.

Every so often I read about getting older, and whoever’s writing it says it’s great to be old; to be prudent and sapient and seasoned. To be at the point where you know just what matters in life.

They drool, “Beauty comes from within.” What are they thinking? Don’t they have necks?

But I loved my old leather couch. Over the years it had developed a beautiful patina that can only be achieved with high quality material.

 

SO WHAT HAPPENED?

What happened was that the old sofa was given a new home. (I really think it was happy with the old one.) But the time had come to replace it with something new. 

However, a really good sofa is hard to find.

No, I don’t mean the quality of its frame, the durability of its fabric, or its classic, timeless design. Those can be found in abundance. No, the kind of sofa I wanted, and frankly needed, was not easily found.
 

MAYBE IT’S JUST ME 

Okay, maybe it’s just me. But when I think about a really good sofa, this is what I think about: 

1. Is it long enough to have a nap on? 
2. Is it deep enough so that I don’t fall off when I’m napping?
3. Can I use two pillows when I’m napping?
4. Can I spill red wine on it without staining?

THE NEW SOFA

The new sofa isn’t working out; frankly, we’re having some issues. I haven’t quite decided, but I’m close to calling off our relationship.

Here are my issues:

1. It’s new leather. It will need another 32 years to look like my old sofa. And I don’t have that much time.
2. The new leather looks and feels great, but everything slides off. Including me.
3. It’s curved. I can forget having a good nap. 
4. It’s new. I don’t know how the red wine will feel about that. 

THE SACRED

There are some things that are sacred to me. (For any checklist I create, my goal at minimum, is to be somewhat ambitious. Ambition can vary from “starting a business” to simply “getting off of couch”.)

1. My trips. I don’t know if you’re that familiar with me, but hiking isn’t my usual choice of vacation activities. I tend to prefer shopping.

2. My walks. No, I’m not a tightrope walker like the famous “The Great Blondin”, nor do I try to compete with David Sedaris’ 25-mile-a-day stroll, nor do I compose symphonies in my head like Beethoven. But I am renown for my intermittent “Gandhi walks”, especially when trolling through new places or ignoring street signs.

3. My writing. Although trying to write after not writing for awhile, is kind of like trying to finish the Badwater Ultramarathon after three years of sitting on the couch and eating Cheetos.

4. My sofa.

IN CLOSING

Humans are hard-wired to connect; to each other, their i-Phones, their couch. From an evolutionary perspective, it makes sense that we are particularly sensitive to separating from our couches, since our survival is pretty dependent on getting in our daily nap. So we cling and have appropriate responses to that need, which keeps us safe and protected.

Given that, I really liked my old sofa.