I moved my couch last week, which is always a big mistake. Huge, really. And in retrospect, I can think of no worthy justification. Just literally none.
I mean, moving it for a party so more people will fit? It seems like a good reason to displace furniture, but now that I know what sort of dust and allergens, biohazards and malice I’ve stirred up, I really should’ve just let traffic flow suffer. Let people trip over the couch arms. Risk folks being trapped in the living room with no good exit strategy. But I failed to conduct the proper cost/benefit analysis for Couch Moving, even though I have excellent raw data that show the precarious predicament we always face.
God knows what sort of heinous diseases our unsuspecting guests were exposed to. It was a bad long term decision; there’s no way, years from now, when the Center for Disease Control traces a mysterious cancer contracted by dozens of humans back to the Big Gay Wedding at the Woolseys’ in 2018, our home owners’ insurance will be able to bear the liability payments. We’ll be bankrupt. Broke. Destitute. Not to mention the suffering of the innocents.
The good news is, I have zero photographic evidence of the piles and piles — and piles and piles — of dust and garbage and socks and hair and panties and wrappers and LEGOS and shoes and gloves and bones and spoons and toys and paper and games and germs and the inexplicable lake of sticky goo glueing it all together, so I have plausible deniability.
The bad news is, I’m a slow learner, so I moved the couch back.
And I do have photos of the supplemental pile that emerged from the black hole of horror thereunder.
Friends, this is what materialized on the second move, two days after the first. This is just what’s leftover after Move #1.
That’s what we missed the first time.
Worse, no one knows if this is all of it.
There could be legions still underneath.
Throngs readying themselves for attack.
That stuff probably has reinforcements as plentiful as the massive garrisons of Mordor.
It probably hasn’t yet begun to fight.
It probably has yet to unleash its full fury upon the world.
Y’all, I don’t want to be hysterical or anything, but I took a tiny peek under the couch to see what may remain, and this is what I saw:
In conclusion, SOMEONE SHOULD GO GET HELP. I mean, far be it from me to overdramatize a situation or breed fear, but WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.
Also, maybe think twice before you move your couch for the holidays.
#TheMoreYouKnow #HelpMeHelpYou #SaveYourselves
With love, and waving from the dark,
P.S. It’s time to play I Spy again! WOOHOO! Take a look at this FAB photo and let me know what you spy with your little eye. Extra points for rhyming.
P.P.S. I can’t decide what my favorite item is, but I’m leaning toward the single serving of months-old Ranch dip. 🤢 Not the kind that’s actually preserved or sealed, either. The kind with the loose lid that could give at any moment.