as some of you are aware, i fucking love my couch.
though, i must admit this picture doesn't really do justice to its rich, golden hue.
whatever. i'm on a schedule here. no time for fancy lighting.
anyway, i love my couch. it belonged to my grandparents, and i think it's classy. and original.
but something very troubling is happening. it would seem i have formed a negative association to my beautiful couch. you see, this is where i sit for my daily torture sessions, and just looking at it now brings on a wave of dread.
this is the power of university, people.
it can make me hate my couch. the couch i love. the couch who's cushions i flip over so that they won't get saggy and worn. the couch i have fiercely protected almost to the detriment of some friendships. the couch where i planned to give birth to my first........ ok, too far.
but seriously. i loved my couch. and now it makes me want to run and hide.
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