Strange(r) Days: The End Is the Beginning Is the End

Sometimes a couch isn't just a couch. You don't know because only I know. If you knew and I didn't know, then you'd be teaching me instead of me teaching you - and for a student to be teaching his teacher is presumptuous and rude. Do I make myself clear?

You might be wondering why we're here talking about a Pottery Barn sleeper couch. But this isn't just any couch. This couch has been part of this family's life since the beginning. It was a perfect gift, since we couldn't have afforded it if we went to buy it ourselves. It's made its way from New Jersey to North Carolina, High Point to Greensboro to the B.F.E. Whitsett.

It's seen plenty of visitor's rumps and bumps, had overnight guests from Florida, New Jersey, Virginia, California and I even think Maryland. Maybe it was D.C., but potato, potatoe.

I had my nights on the couch for illness, late-night sleeplessness and pregnant-belly-taking-up-my-side-of-the-bed. But not fighting; never go to bed angry, Michelle says. So no fighting nights for you, couch.

You've been good to us, couch, but we've been good to you. Even bought you a new slip cover especially made for you and your kind. Gave us a heart attack to see how much regular price actually costs (thanks, Pottery Barn), but luckily we found one on deep discount. You've worn it nicely ever since.

But today we found a chink in the armor. After a night on the couch (illness on Michelle's part), I went to fold you back up. You wouldn't fold back in. Finally I saw that the steel leg that folds back into the couch has snapped, hanging there off the frame. I was able to fold it in and get the couch back to normal, but is there ever a "normal" for a broken sleeper couch?