The plan was to wake up the next morning and hit the garage sales. I received a phone call around 8:30 informing me that the couch had been found (who would have thought that my Neener would shake out of bed that early?) and that my presence was needed to move said piece of furniture. What I found when I arrived was the largest, deepest couch I had ever seen. Even with all the pillows propped up--and there were seven, not included the two huge backing pillows--my feet barely reached the ground. The couch was instantly baptized the Ultimate Makeout Couch (UMC, for short) and we took it home.
Eleven years later, the UMC is still an integral part of the family. It has been jumped on, climbed on, dived off, crawled over, slept on, peed on, barfed on, hidden behind, and rolled on. It has been used as a bed, a reading chair, a napkin, a snot rag, a pirate ship, a spaceship, a mermaid cave, and launching pad. Youth of all ages have congregated on its hallowed seat cushions for firesides, story time, and lectures. We have placed every member of Janine's family on this couch at one time (years ago, mind you, before they started reproducing so prodigiously).
I personally have spent more time on the UMC than anyone else because it was my primary perch during my doctoral studies. Hundreds of hours and thousands of pages have been logged on that wine-colored, rhombus-decorated upholstery. A few naps might have slipped in there from time to time, but for the most part the UMC deserves as much credit for my PhD as does anyone else.
And so, you will imagine the deep feeling of foreboding that crept in when Janine announced she wanted new couches. In truth she's been talking about it for years and I've been dodging the question for an equal amount of time. But this year she got serious: she started earmarking the tax return before the forms were filed.
This led to a series of high-level summit meetings about the fate of the UMC, which with more than a decade of faithful service is showing its age. A motion to sell the couch was brought to the floor, then sent back to committee, resubmit for general approval and provisionally accepted though with serious caveats and concerns.
And then, in a last-minute closed-door negotiation, a compromise deal was reached that led to the best of all possible outcomes: the UMC stays and the cheap-o leather couch that we bought in the boondocks for $40 is now being sold on Craigslist for $125.
There is great rejoicing in Pricelandia. And most of it is being done on the UMC.
