The Garden of the Blind

Friday, we got a couch and a love seat for our apartment. I’m very excited about it because I love couches. I’ve just barely met these two fine pieces of furniture, and in anticipation of all the good times we will hopefully have together (me and the couches, that is), I’m dedicating this entry to all the couches I’ve loved.

Years ago, my family was given a couch by our elderly neighbor. It was much bigger and softer than our old couch, and as such it could fit me laying down, even with my toes pointed out. Sadly, our family have caused the poor couch far more wear than this little old lady ever did. Plus once the dogs started getting on it, things would never be the same for me.

As a young missionary, I spent a night on our couch in Woodstock. It was quite nice, and so I ended up moving the couch into the bedroom and the bed into the living room. It worked out well in the end because we became a threesome, and so my old bed had its own occupant, and we weren’t forced to scrounge up a new one. It was with that couch that I learned that it’s harder to turn over when there’s only the back of the couch to turn to.

In Carbonear, there was a wonderful chair that was shaped like a low recliner. It was very soft and was a wonderful place to study. Few things annoyed me more than a jealous companion who compared it to the throne room of King Noah (“and he caused a breastwork to be built before them, that they might rest their bodies and their arms upon while they should speak lying and vain words to his people.”). I only spoke lying and vain words to him, so I don’t know what he’s complaining about.

My next area had no good couches. I had to study in a chair that wasn’t even overstuffed. I found myself staying awake through personal study with distressing regularity.

Bathurst was better though. I had my own love seat to study in, which was divine. The two extra pillows and blanket I kept there really helped on those cold winter mornings. Then there was the couch. After our apartment flooded, we found ourselves without a bedroom for a month or two (until the lazy landlord got the room painted), and so instead of taking up the living room floor with two mattresses, I just slept on the couch. It was great.

At school, I had half a dozen different couches, and yet they were all the same. They were there for me when I had to study (maybe you can do homework without a T.V. running, but I sure can’t). When I had friends come to visit, they gave us a place to gather. When my roommate came in drunk and muttering foul, violent things all night, it was a place of refuge (the chair in front of the door for him to trip on if he came in to kill me helped too).

So, with new couches in my life, I am sure that I have a lot to look forward to. So far, it looks like they’ll make out just fine.