What is it with my couch? Oh- I forgot to mention this one. Couches. Our marriage can be traced by the couches that we've owned. Back in 1999, when we first moved in together, we had this horribly ugly couch- it was this hideous red velour-like fabric with gold embroidered swirlies all over it. Mike loved that couch. Why? No clue- it was just a hideously ugly couch. Not too comfortable, either (although that could just be me remembering trying to get off that thing when I was nine months pregnant with Cody). When we moved in- he 'accidentally' knocked one of the legs off the couch. I think that he did it on purpose- because, ya know, it's hilarious to watch a pregnant woman roll herself off the couch.
Not long after Cody was born, and not long before we moved, we got rid of that couch in favor of another hideously ugly (although slightly more comfortable) couch. We went from the 70s to the 80s with a 'lovely' beige couch with gray, silver, and black 'swooshes' all over it. I still have the pillows from that thing (at least one- and it's sitting by the back door, ready to head for the trash). Did I have a say in the new couch? No. In fact, I think it was more along the lines of 'Hey, can you get the door, honey? I've got a couch.' Yeah. Thoughtful, isn't he?
Eight or nine months after we moved out of that apartment, Mike began talking about futons. He wanted a futon. He needed to have futon. I glared at him. I mean- I really did. I was starting to get the idea that he has absolutely NO TASTE in couches, whatsoever. My thoughts were ignored. *I* wanted a fake leather couch. Why? Simple. We have boys. A fake leather couch means that a- if they spill, I don't have to run for paper towels so that it's cleaned up before it's soaked into the fabric and b- I could care less if the fake leather is ruined by said spills. Oh- and it needed to be dark, like a dark brown. Did he listen? Nope- he ignored me and went out and bought a $100 futon.
It broke when he was putting it together. The entire time that we had that thing, it was duct taped into a couch position. Oh- and the cover? Hideous. But we were still in the 80s- it was green swirly swooshes on a beige background. Yep- ugly. More like patio furniture than living room furniture. But we lived with that couch for over two years. I took my chance to get rid of it when we moved- the frame is at my parents and I had Mike toss the couch part (it was trashed).
My parents gave us a couch when we moved in. Lo and behold! A fake leather couch! Woohoo! There were problems (the leather was cracked in places), but hey- I have three boys, and the cracked cushions gave me a new use for our crib sheets. Mike started talking new couches. A sectional.
Wait. Something else that you need to know. I'm living in the house where I grew up. Years and years ago, my parents tried a sectional in the living room. It. Will. Not. Fit. trust me on this one- sectionals don't work in our living room. I explained this to Mike. His response? 'Yes it will, this is different.' Yeah. Right. You can see where I'm going with this, right?
He surprised me one day by coming home and saying that he bought the couch. What the hell? I eyeballed him and asked him what couch, how much did it cost, and did he even think to, oh, I don't know, SHOW IT TO HIS WIFE FIRST? Nope- hadn't crossed his mind. Apparently, measuring didn't, either. He explained that it would stick out maybe (*Snort*) a few inches into the dining room doorway. Ok, whatever.
He brought the couch home. He got it inside the house. He got it set up. It stuck out TWO FREAKING FEET into the dining room doorway. I eyeballed him and said 'Tape measures. Wonderful inventions. Maybe next time you could use one?' I don't mind the couch. It's comfortable, but darn it, it is next to impossible to clean under it or behind it because I have no room in the living room in which to move the pieces around.
So. Here I sit, the unfortunate owner of a couch that does not fit in my living room. I do have to give him credit- he chose one that matches the room (well, sorta. The couch is brown, but there's purple in the swirly flower thingys on the throw pillows).
When we got our tax return, he told me that he was going to get himself a fish tank. Now, to me 'fish tank' means something that is small enough to fit inside a room. The one that he's getting? It's an entire ecosystem in and of itself. It's big, ok? Really big. He starts showing me how tall it will be and how wide and how long and I stop him and say 'Look at the couch. Look at it. You said that it would only stick out a little bit. It's blocking half of the doorway to the dining room. Do you REALLY think that I'm going to take your word on just how tall/big/wide this thing is?' Oh- and I told him that i'm going to be going with him to the fish store with a tape measure and getting the measurements, myself (because, obviously, I can't trust him to do anything. What's even funnier is that he is a salesman and TELLS his customers to measure to make sure that they have room for whatever it is that they're buying.).
Yeah, I'm bitter about this. I like ROOM. I like to be able to move around without bumping into things that just don't fit.
But what I started to talk about was the boys' fascination with using our couch as their own private jungle gym. Did I mention that our current couch comes with an ottoman? It does. The 'ottoman' is more 'coffee table with padding', but still. They jump off the back of it, climb it, turn it into a house, and so on. Every morning, I walk through our living room and pick up six blankets, fold them, and return them to the boys' room because for some odd reason, the boys need two blankets a piece when they're building their 'forts' or 'houses' or whatever. Then- I get the pillows. They're all over the floor.
The biggest drawback to having a sectional is that it is insanely easy for the boys to push it out of place. It drives me nuts. I'm sure that the neighbors think that I'm this crazy lady because all that they see is most likely me standing in the window, yelling. I'm usually telling the boys, in no uncertain terms, that if I catch them using my couch as a jungle gym again, I'm going to lock them in their rooms (like I would really do that- fire hazard, ya know. Oh, and they'd be pounding the walls and making even more noise than they do now).
I need to update my template, but I'm too lazy to do that right now. Maybe later.
