Ode to my couch -a comic interlude

My couch has special powers it seems, or maybe different attributes.
Last night, the sofa conspired with the warm fire and a book to lure me into their spell. A sleeping spell, that is.
After a long day at work and a thorough workout at the gym, my agenda upon arriving home was to do my evening reading while eating dinner and then get to bed as soon as possible. However, dinner was consumed quickly, the book was good and I continued to read, but the chair was cold and uncomfortable. So I moved to stand in front of the fire…but the light was bad. A warning in the back of my mind prodded me: “don’t sit down…you know what will happen if you give in to that comfortable couch!” I did know, but frankly didn’t care. I had exercised and was tired and had earned the right to sit down, by golly! And the rest, as they say, is history. I gave in to the lure of the sofa, and a few paragraphs later was out like a light. I jolted back awake a little later, and staggered toward bed with the uncertain balance of one sleep walking or under the influence. I must have been partway between both…I was under the influence of the sofa’s sleeping spell, and thus walked as if still asleep. Of course, upon making it to bed, I lay awake for another hour or so, with thoughts chasing one another through my head like Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner. Maybe it would have been better to spend the night on the couch…?

Now, Sleeping Potion #9 is not the only power or personality that my couch exerts. It is also my portal to reflective thinking, the landing platform for books, pens, tablets, computer, graham crackers, etc. while I am in the midst of study or computer play, the command console of the vessel that carries me down roads less (or often) traveled when I get lost in thought, and not least of all the seat that affords me a view of the bay, the blending colors of twilight, the birds flying over, the people passing by, and the folding of day into night while I sip my tea. Sometimes there is soft candlelight or classical music to accompany me on these journeys, sometimes a comfortable silence. And yes, as I type this abstract ode to my couch, here I sit upon it, ever thankful. If sofas could tell stories, I wonder what mine would tell about me… At least this one could not complain of a dull life!