John Mueller: Where are We Without Our Couches?

The following article by John Mueller is posted as it originally appeared in the Livingston County Daily Press and Argus. livingstondaily.com

How much time do you spend thinking about your couch?

If you're like how I used to be, the answer is not much. There doesn't seem to be much to think about, after all. Couches don't do much, and they seldom change. They're always there, right where you left them.

But lately, the couch that my girlfriend and I share at our apartment has been much on my mind. Why? Because my girlfriend is kicking it out of the apartment. Evicting it, if you will.

Normally, this wouldn't bother me. I've gotten rid of a few couches myself in the past, and it's usually not an emotional situation for me. When I was moving out of my old place in Brighton, I was so indifferent toward my hideous green-and-brown textile couch (purchased for $30 on craigslist.org) that I simply left it there, with permission from my landlords. Before that, I had a tiny wicker couch that was more suited for somebody's front porch in the summer. This was my apartment's main couch for years, until I got so sick of it that I carried it down to the Dumpster (yeah, it was that tiny) and tossed it in. It had been a very uncomfortable couch over the years, and after throwing it in the Dumpster I actually taunted it for a moment or two before walking away.

So, yeah, my motto has always been something like, "Recline on 'em, then leave 'em."

But all of that has changed. Among the many things my girlfriend brought to the table when we moved in together was this vintage-looking orange couch that is just about the most comfortable piece of furniture on Earth. It was supposedly made in the 1930s and has been in her family for years. It looks like something you'd find in the Playboy Mansion. I liked it right away.
But in the last few months, I slowly became aware that my girlfriend was becoming less and less happy with the couch. She complained that it was "losing its shape" and that it smelled like dog (we have two of them, and they both lounge on that couch enough to have earned certifiable couch potato status).

As the holidays approached, the grumblings reached a fever pitch, and that's when I realized the truth: My orange, comfy friend was being kicked out of the house.

Things got even more serious a couple of Fridays ago. That's when I found myself, of all places, in a Gardner-White furniture store in Waterford Township, standing around helplessly while my girlfriend chose a new couch. You know you're no longer in your 20s when you can be found in Gardner-White on a Friday night. (I felt the same way when a buddy of mine from high school called me one day with the stunning and distressing news that another of our buddies had recently been seen carrying a picnic basket somewhere. Dude!)

But anyway, my girlfriend found the couch she wanted and filled out the paperwork. If I were asked to describe the new acquisition, I'd probably say it's "nice" and "sort of red." All in all, a fine couch.

But still, her calculating, cold-blooded quest to run the orange couch out of the apartment on a rail struck me as a little chilling. I wanted to ask, "What did that old thing ever do to you? Was it not comfortable? Have you no loyalty?"

All's not lost, though. Like I said, my girlfriend wants the old couch out of the apartment. But don't come out to our place expecting to pick up a free discarded couch out by the curb.

It's going out in the garage, you see. And just as soon as the weather's warm again, so am I.

John Mueller is a copy editor for the Livingston County Daily Press & Argus.