I finally own a sectional couch
I’m 36. And this is the first time I’ve ever been a proud owner of a sectional couch.
I know, you probably think I’m wealthy beyond all imagination. But it’s just not true. We bought this thing from a friend for $50. But it’s like new.
In all honesty, I didn’t even know that owning a sectional couch was such a cliche’ of adulthood and domestication. But you know how, when you buy a certain car, you start seeing it everywhere? This is what’s happening to me with my sectional couch. Since I’ve owned it, I’ve been hearing it in random off-handed asides. You have the wife. The car. The mortgage. The white picket fence. And the sectional couch. I didn’t even know that’s what it’s officially called before a friend saw it and said, “Oh, dude, you have a sectional couch.”.
That’s okay. The label doesn’t bug me much. I feel like a damn king sitting on this thing right now. I can sleep on 3 different segments of it. I love plopping down with the laptop and kicking my feet up on the chaise lounge. Rory jumps on it like a trampoline (which we’re trying to put the kibosh on right now — she’s fallen off and banged her head twice doing that). This thing is awesome.
I just think it’s funny what we consider luxurious. Maybe for you, it’s your Ferrari. Or your fine cigar collection. For me, right now, this sectional couch is feeling fine.