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If your couch could talk what would it say about you?
Here's what it would say about me, in this century. That I probably hang around too long, cup of tea in hand. More in Winter than Summer, but too long all the same. That my favourite screen is still the television, despite so many choices. I like well constructed British or Australian dramas, which are entirely thought provoking. I am also a very political creature, who is definitely rusted on to one political point of view, more than the other. The couch would say that I use more than one electronic devise at once and that my kids like to sit on the couch with me and snuggle up. They have absolutely no concept of personal space and it is not unusual, for them both to jump on me at the same time.
More interestingly what would my couch have said about me in my single days.
That I had good taste in men.
My couch would also observe that I entertained alot. From dinner parties to cocktail parties, the couch was there, following proceedings. I know everyone thinks they had great parties, but I think mine really were. There is nothing quite like good food, good wine and good friends all in the same room. There were even a few marriages, which had their inception out of one of my parties. I'm not sure how those people feel about that now.
My couch would have also said that apart from throwing parties, I was not home much. When I was, I liked to talk on the phone alot, to my girlfriends, discussing our next move.
If only that couch could talk. That couch which was front and centre in the living room of my inner city pad in my single days and then relegated to my first new born baby's room. It became somewhere to sit with my new bundle of joy, during those freezing lonely nights, when you are trying to work out what the hell has happened to you and how it has all come to this. It felt like I didn't get off that couch for the first few months of my baby's life.
That couch would have recognised a big change in me. It would have felt my angst, as I struggled with the nightmare that is breastfeeding at first........ouch. Deliriously tired, as I rocked my baby to sleep in the middle of the night. I still maintain that if this task was left to men, the species would have died of starvation eons ago. The couch would have seen me come to terms with the whole new born thing and slowly realise that having kids is a joy.
It's funny to think how much of my life the couch has actually been privy to. The good, the bad and the fabulous.
If your couch could talk, what would it say about you?
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