danny_g

So here's something strange.

A year ago my parents got new couches, and as a result they gave me one of their old couches. This couch is great: nearly twice the length and thrice as nice as the fold-out futon deal it replaced. Getting it into my apartment was a bit of a struggle, but that's another monologue all to itself.

Amongst the circle of visitors I have around here, it is known as the Comfiest Couch in the World. It has housed many overnight visitors, from JDRook to... people who aren't JDRook. That's not really the point. The point is that it's comfy.

Here's the weird part. When I still lived with my parents, this couch and it's little brother were found in the living room. The smaller one faced the television, and had its back to the banister seperating the living room from the kitchen. When getting up, it was a simple matter to reach back grab the banister to hoist yourself up with.

So I've had the couch for nearly a year. And frequently find myself stretched out on it at the end of a long day of Moviedome. (Days which I believe to be numbered, but that's another monologue unto itself.) As of a couple of weeks ago I started reaching for the banister when I needed to get up. A banister that's a thirty minute drive away from here.

Nearly a year I've had it, and only now have I started giving in to old reflexes. I find that odd. Okay, it's not much, but it's Saturday. My day of complete nothingness. I've watched an absurd amount of television and now I'm going to try to play a video game start to finish. Whee.

"X... means... ten. You slackjawed junkslut!"
-Tycho Brahe