Once, before I was sucked into the suburbs and my subsequent slow-crawl to death, I lived downtown in a magnificent loft with impossibly high ceilings, tastefully polished concrete floors and exposed brick…
And for this beautiful loft, I purchased an equally stunning couch.
It was irrationally large and seafoam green and spacious, its vast, pleasant fabric stretching for as far as the eye could see. It was a sectional, actually, massive enough to sit 6-7 grown adults, or probably an entire Korean baseball team. The chaise lounge was bigger than some beds, and from it sprung a ridiculously long couch, and from that, parallel to the chaise, an average-sized couch.
It was a object to behold, a thing of unparalleled beauty, a piece of furniture capable of drawing strong men to their knees after witnessing the magnitude of its beauty.
And then, like a fucking idiot, I bought a small, old house in Johnson County. Continue reading