I was sitting on the couch drinking whiskey and watching the rain piss down from a North Korean black sky for the 50th day in a row. Then Sonja came home from work with dinner for a King in the form of leftover’s from her workplace’s Christmas lunch. Sonja works with people from every corner of our cornered Earth so it was quite the buffet.
Best thing was Sonja was too full to eat any of it. She poured herself a big glass of red and watched sawmill hungry me devour every last bit of it.
Christmas is the fucking best!
2 comments:
Raymond D. Davies' "Sitting on my Sofa" has been rattling in my head close to week now. You crossed the finish line first. I came in late. Hours later, but I'm glad that I alighted here.
What is it with sofas, couches, settees ? Three-piece suites ?
Big roomy cast-offs left out in the rain.
Last days of the ottoman empire. Tumbling off the backless perch.
I love my couch. Black leather. Bought it over two decades ago from a (very) small furniture maker who delivered it and its matching loveseat tied together vertically in the back of an El Camino. Kinky bondage. A Prince and Princess and their Canadian designer.
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