Sofa King

Old Sofa

I could hear my knee pop as I lifted Mark's new sofa up the first step of the porch. A sharp, stabbing, pain shot through my leg, up to my brain, and out of my mouth as a string of obscenities. Oblivious to my agony, Mark continued to bark out orders, "Lift it a little higher, tilt it over!". Once again I have become a pawn in Mark's twisted world of, 'It's not good enough'. We had a perfectly usable sofa, and had no reason to get a new one, but what looks fine to me often looks like yesterdays fish to Mark. So it was that we 'had' to get this much better, new sofa. After all the lifting, twisting, and shoving of two sofas, I finally sat down, out of breath, and feeling like my knee had been whacked by Tanya Harding.

If it were up to me, my home would still look like it did fifteen years ago. Once I get comfortable, I don't go around looking for things to do. I didn't need my bathroom redone, I don't need the walls to be painted a different color every two years, and I never need the furniture rearranged. That last thing, rearranging the furniture, is actually Mark's revenge for whatever bad things I have done to him in the last year. I really think he gets a little chuckle out of watching me stumble over furniture that wasn't there yesterday, or me slamming my toes into a new chair that has materialized overnight. I have to admit, the new couch looks good, and the micro-fiber upholstery is pretty much Chandler proof, but the best part about it is that it has two recliners built in to it. Now Mark and I can both fall asleep during one of those boring 'chick flicks' that Mark likes.

New Sofa