My Couch is a Tattle-Tale

My mom asked me the other day how my couch was working out. “It’s great,” I said, “but I can see my butt print when I get up.” She started to chuckle and then said to me, “Now Rece, when people are there, you can’t tell them they’re sitting too hard or whatever. It’s a couch, that’s what it’s there for.” She completely missed my point. “I know that Ma,” I responded, “but it leaves butt prints and when I get up, I can see how big my butt really is.” And she laughed. Sometimes people miss my point. My couch is cute; I love it. It’s blue, vintage looking, and definitely classy in my little apartment. But the couch is a total gossip. She tells everybody the size of the person’s butt who last sat on her. Ouch. It’s painful. When you come visit me, I suggest you try what I’m learning to do routinely, gently rub out the butt print on the velvety couch and no one will have to know…

couch

Tata for now.

Rece

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