I have a complicated relationship with my sofa. My corner of it is literally my favorite place to be, but it keeps trying to make my life difficult.
If it were up to my sofa, for example, I would never have done the half-marathon in the fall. I think it's still annoyed I spent so much time away from it training.
One of the things my sofa does is eat things that fall between its cushions. This is exceedingly frustrating when I'm using those things. Today it was my iPod. Things that fall beneath the seat get pulled out no problem, but when things get stuck inside the wooden box in the arm, I might never see them again. Sometimes getting things out means upending the whole sofa.
Thankfully, tonight all I needed was a coat hanger, which took the trip to AL and back. I've been not taking it back to my closet for reasons unknown, and today it came in handy.
The iPod, which I had just synced with new episodes of favorite podcasts, was recovered. I also turned up a knitting needle that may have been missing for four years, various hair ties, and three colored pens obviously lost while grading (they were all uncapped: green, pink, and orange).
I find this a somewhat accurate portrait of my life, and think it must only mean that my sofa is trying to make a nice place for me for the inevitable day that I get lost in its innards.