A couch as a symbol. Never really thought my life would come to this - placing symbolic importance of the direction of my life and emotional well being on a creature-comfort-purchase from Pottery Barn, but my Charleston Slip-Cover Sofa arrived today.
At 32 years old, I have never owned a couch. I mean I've had couches, but they belonged to my roomate, or boyfriend or were a hand-me-down from a friend, but I've never purchased a couch.
When I lived in Milwaukee - my "pretend" couch was the stuff of legends. In lieu of purchasing a couch for my otherwise cool little apartment by the lake - I used an inflatable mattress with a flannel down sleepy bag and 6 huge green pillows - I mean it was the shit for watching movies with friends and kicking back to (um) enjoy video's of the "release" type...but I always found people kinda looking around my apartment like - uh - interesting - NO couch. You see I felt like if I bought a couch I was striking some permanent deal to stay in Milwaukee, and with my boyfriend (ex) 2000 miles away - I figured I would wait til I knew the next step. So somewhere in my head - the couch - became a symbol for the future of my relationship. So today - with the relationship ended and my heart and soul mending - two NOT sexy delivery men showed up at my door (you so KNOW I was hoping for some street-wise urban punks with hard dicks, sweaty butts and loose morals to deliver my couch AND MORE - but oh well) to bring me my consumer delight. I moved it around, adjusted - readjusted - maladjusted - the pillows, hung pictures above it - took them down - rehung them - set lamps on the right - then the left - Oh, ok back to right - for over and hour (shouldn't I be somewhere ? Oh crap - work!).
So now I'm part of the club - Symbolically Important Couches Klub (S.I.C.K.) and I just have one question to ask :
You wanna sit with me on my couch ?