New digs

It appears my downstairs bed has been downsized. Recently, two burly young men showed up at our house with a big Ryder truck. They looked more like hippies than assault rifle lovin' militia men, so I let 'em in the house. I was hoping they had a truckload of those magical doggie biscuits like Grandma Helen makes me (the kind that make me feel... anxious). But, no such luck. Instead, they apparently had a couple large pieces of furniture to deliver to our basement. So, I'm thinking this is going to be a sweet deal... a huge sofa for me to lounge on instead of being relegated to my little corner of our existing cootie command center of a couch. The lovely sofa-settee arrangement you see in the photo at left belongs to Linda. She procured this exquisite two-piece collection from a used furniture store after graduating from college in the mid-1990's. She obviously didn't study interior design. On the other hand, Stew owned no furniture prior to his union with Linda, except for a homemade bar... which he sold before moving to Minneapolis in 1997 because it was just too darned big for the little U-Haul trailer he rented. However, upon arrival in the Twin Cities, Stew did buy one other piece of furniture. You see, Stew had never seen a futon nor had he even heard the word "futon" before moving to "the big city." It was a tough concept for him to grasp until one night, while sitting on the floor of his efficiency apartment drinking a 12-pack of Budweiser while watching Dharma & Greg on his TV (set atop a couple stolen milk crates serving as a TV stand), Stew saw a commercial for Futon World that would change his life. The very next day Stew went out and got himself one of them there folding beds. The futon is now with friends in Fargo where Stew can still go visit it from time to time. Anyway, back to the two hippies dispensing furniture from their Ryder delivery truck. The two fellas took a greenish sofa to the basement (shaped like an "L"), then they bring something called a snuggler. Near as I can tell, it's a reddish oversized chair. But, the front of the chair can also be raised and used as a footrest (like a recliner). However, that footrest thing really freaks me out, so I dart upstairs anytime I see it shoot out of the chair. But, here's the kicker -- I'm no longer allowed on the sofa (or the snuggler). Instead, Stew comes home from the store with a tiny little doggie bed for me expecting me to be all thrilled. Well, I think not. To this day, I still torment Stew and Linda by staring at them relentlessly while they sit on their fancy new furniture. Occasionally, I'll gaze longingly at the corner of the sofa and make a little grooooan sound. But, it appears I'll never be allowed up on the furniture again. I curse the day Momma invited me up on the basement sofa! I have tasted freedom, and freedom tastes good (a little like chicken). Stew and Linda best not leave the basement door ajar the next time I'm left home alone.