Jeff April 29th, 2008
Theresa got an engagement ring, and I got you. It wasn’t that explicit a deal, but like every newly engaged woman, Theresa couldn’t stop staring at her ring, so I took the opportunity while she was distracted and in no condition to argue. I spent hours deciding what kind, I mean, obviously HD, but what other combination of letters would I get? DLP? LCD? But it was a labor of love, and I finally decided on your 46″ of high definition DLP goodness.
I took you home, set you up, and stared at the beauty. Even before I turned it on, it fit perfectly in the room, matched our colors and completed the apartment. And when I turned it on, my jaw dropped. The color, the intensity, the sound, the fluidity. I sat back on our couch in awe. The immersion I felt was unprecedented. Watching sports felt like having tickets to every game (except when I had to listen to Joe Morgan). The Discovery Channel was suddenly the best channel on TV.
As the years have past, you have been the focal point of Super Bowl parties, Kentucky Derby parties, and Rock Band parties. Now, I’m not your biggest TV addict out there, I barely have to time watch my Lost and NBC Thursday comedies, let alone sporting events or video games. But when I have time and want to watch, I like knowing that you’ll give me the best picture out there. And that you look good and balance the room even when you’re not turned on.
I will miss my TV and all of the entertainment it gives me while we’re gone, but I have a feeling that I will find more entertainment in the adventures we’ll be having. I’ll have to be more proactive about it, but hey, that’s a good thing. And I know that when I return, you’ll still be there for me to put in my basement and once again be my center of mindless and stationary entertainment.
Theresa April 22nd, 2008
I saw you in my head before I ever set eyes on you. I knew exactly how you should look–red, but not fire engine red; long, but not abnormally so; deep, but not so much that you wouldn’t fit through our door–but for weeks I couldn’t find you. I found ones that wanted to be you, but they were made of the microfiber that neither Jeff nor I liked, or they were the wrong color red, or they were so overstuffed that you couldn’t sit on them without sliding off. I almost gave up hope. I almost settled.
But then…then I walked through the door of Bassett Furniture and there you were. Cushions that were just the right compromise of soft and firm. Pillows that could be taken off but stayed put when you wanted them to. Deep brown legs. And the perfect red color. It was love at first sight. But you refused to go home with me that first night. Instead I had to wait eight long weeks for you, but when you arrived, I realized the wait was worth it. You completed my room.
And now, 3.5 years later, you are still perfect. When I’m tired and want to do nothing but veg out, you welcome me into your embrace, and encourage me to relax, read a book, watch some TV. You don’t tell me that I should be productive or make me feel guilty for my pleasures. You’ve been a surrogate all those weeks when Jeff has been gone in Sweden, providing a cozy alternative to the emptiness of the bed. You’ve opened yourself to friends and family, even allowing my brother to call you his bed for an entire summer. You’ve weathered spills and crumbs without complaint. I couldn’t ask anything more of you. You’ve never once let me down.
Oh couch, what will I do without you? To what will I turn after a long, tiring day? The communal hostel couch—icky with god knows what—can never take your place. The worn hotel bed can never be an adequate replacement. Oh couch, how I will miss you. But I’ll survive, knowing you’ll be there when I return, as comfy and embracing as ever. On the hardest of days, I’ll think of you waiting for me at home, and that alone will get me through.
This is the first in an occasional series titled “An Ode to…” in which we will reflect on things we will miss while we are traveling.
