Oh man. I’m here again.
Couch, I thought this was over. I thought you had let me go and that we had gotten past this.
Look, I think you’re great. I really do. We’ve had a lot of good memories. Great memories, I’d even say. But I can’t keep doing this. I have a life I need to live. I have pants I need to put on.
Yes, you’re comfortable. Yes, you offer a slightly less depressing place for DDS (daytime depression sleeping) than my bed. And yes, I can quickly pretend I was just folding laundry if anyone comes in and says, ” You’re STILL sleeping?!”
But I really think (after tomorrow) I’m going to have to stop sinking into your cozy comfort of avoidance of my real life. I really think (after the day after tomorrow) we’re going to have to part ways and only come together when I need someplace to temporarily sit. And (after the day that comes after the day after the day after tomorrow so we’re kind of looking at next week) I really would appreciate it if you’d stop giving me such an easy place to continue drowning in my own sloppy mess of depression and worthlessness.
It’s okay – you still have the cat.