Couches Like Cats
Couches are like cats. Once they’re outside, they don’t easily go back inside.
One of the typical hang-outs for my circle of friends has a collection of ratty couches we keep outside, on the concrete patio or unmown grass. It’s perfect for barbeques, as long as you don’t mind your cushion full of dirt, spiders and dried cat urine.
For whatever reason, a roommate at that house I helped move decided to bring one of these couches along for the ride to his new school district. After a year-and-a-half as an outside couch, he’s going to bring it inside, to his spacious shiny new apartment. I know that new middle school band directors don’t get paid much, but this still has to be a bad idea.
Even as we loaded it on the truck, it leaked filth onto the floor of our U-Haul. One of the guys, full of charm and wit, said:
I have never seen couches shit.
We all have, now. This is one couch that won’t easily go back inside without stinkin’ up the place. It’ll need two bottles of Febreeze and three days worth of vacuuming before it even nears cleanliness.
If ever I visit, I hope I don’t catch any diseases.