If you’re like most people, you think of your couch as a comfy, restful place on which you can wile away a few hours and then get on with your life.
That’s what I used to think. That is, until I realized my new couch is an anathema, a trap to suck me into a sense of oblivion and wastefulness.
Let me back up. When my husband and I first got married, we removed my lumpy college futon, complete with its forest green cover, and replaced it with a hip blue couch from a fashionable Berkeley furniture store. Sure, it cost a lot, but we were starting our married life, and what’s $700 when you’re in love?
Old Blue served us well. It was narrow enough to fit through our Victorian building’s narrow staircase and doors. This was no small feat in an era of over-sized couch ends and wide berths. Its sleekness looked great in our cozy living room, and we hosted many parties where two people could sit on its hip, yet practical, cushions. Its arm rests were flat and not ideal for resting a tired head, but were perfect for balancing drinks. Who cared that it was difficult to clean and its back was too short for my husband’s 6′ 6″ build? It looked good, and bonus!, it had a pull-out bed where our frequent out-of-town friends would crash.
Old Blue served us faithfully, and weathered two moves, two kids, two cats, and lots of couch time. But 12 years on, Old Blue’s cushions were pilled, stained, and scratched. Its once-full middle sagged and made a disconcerting “boing” when someone sat on it. Our kids complained that it wasn’t comfy or fun. Even the cat had stopped curling on it. It was time to bid Old Blue adieu.
In looking for our replacement, I, in my naïveté, dreamed of a couch where I could, at the end of a busy day, lay down my weary head on a full, cushiony arm rest and luxuriate in its welcoming presence.
Well, be careful what you wish for.
Here’s our current couch, New Brown.
It looks unassuming, doesn’t it? Neutral color. Sensible IKEA price. Easy-clean fabric. Fits three adults comfortably. Wide enough to support long legs. Back rest that can manage my husband’s tall frame. Arm rests that are wide, but not obnoxiously so. The kids like it. The cat has given her seal of approval. Practical, affordable, manageable.
Don’t trust it! Look away, look away now!!!!
New Brown is not your ordinary, run of the store, couch. It is bewitching. From the moment the delivery/assembly guys left, New Brown has been casting an irresistible spell of “come hither” that beckons me, even though I know I have a list of 15 errands that I need to finish. Like a Disney witch disguised as a harmless peasant, this couch hides its evil power to lure the innocent (namely, me) and send them into a vortex of relaxation from which they will not emerge.
Once seated, I’m trapped. I cannot remove my buttocks because New Brown has charmed me. It has drawn me in and captured me. I can lie my entire length comfortably on the couch, sink into its pillowed bosom, and drift in to a peaceful sleep. I delight in its body contouring, and its spacious width, enough for me to turn. Like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, I am in an enchanted slumber.
But this enchantment is transforming me. Kids want to share the couch? No, they are relegated to the sturdy red chairs. “Go sit there. There’s no room here. Mommy needs her space.” Work to do? New Brown sings its siren song and entices me to stay enraptured in its cushiony warmth. Nothing gets done. It’s time to retire to the bedroom? I can’t escape the well-padded arm rests that prop up my head at just-the-right angle. Resistance is useless.
New Brown has transformed me into a couch potato, and, Disney help me, it’s a spell that I can’t break.
Disclaimer: Yes, this is a wonderfully comfortable IKEA couch. However, I paid for the couch and IKEA hasn’t solicited any endorsement or given any compensation for this post. Just so you know.