My ass is not happy.

We are on the hunt for a sofa bed.  On account of the fact that our new house does not have a guest room.  As Canadians, we need to be able to offer extreme-weather lodgings.  It’s in the Canadian Manifesto.  Or it would be if Canada had a Manifesto.

My Mom took great pride in emphatically stating that we could sleep 22 people in our house.  We were military – you never knew who might stop by.  We had more sofa beds and guest beds than your average bear. It’s a badge of family honour for me.  A tradition.   I need to be able to find space for 22 people to sleep in my new home.  My new, 1500 sq. foot home with NO guest room.  David’s already started devising plans to jerry-rig some beds from an alternate dimension.  Patent pending.

I am determined to be able to sleep at least two.  At the very least we need a sofa bed to take care of overnight guests.  All I want is a functioning sofa bed that is actually comfortable to sit on.  Okay, a functioning sofa bed, comfortable to sit on and that doesn’t look like crap.  Is that so much
to ask?  Is it?  Not a fricking futon on a pine frame – I’m 45 years old – not a first year Arts student.  Not something
that feels like you’re balancing your derriere on concrete.  Something
with a modicum of style that can accommodate overnight guests.  It’s like searching
out the Holy Freaking Grail.

I have been trying out
sofa beds for weeks now.  My ass going from shop to shop to shop.  Kind
of like Goldilocks, but with no “just right” in sight. 

This has nothing to do with the post, but when I was trying to find a good Goldilocks illustration I got distracted.

They’re ALL too hard.  All of them.  You can look all you want online, but you cannot buy a sofa without letting your ass feel it. So we’ve been trolling the furniture shops.  We find the exact model that we like, that our asses enjoy – ask if it comes in a sofa bed – and the salesperson won’t meet our eyes when they say “Yes.”  Because they know.  They know that somewhere in the fabrication of inexpensive sofa beds, (Because, let’s face it, we are NOT going to spend $3,000 on a piece of furniture.  EVER), that the base and ass cushions are injected with some sort of concrete polymer that ensures that one would rather sit on the floor than on this piece of furniture masquerading as comfortable. 

I’m desperately trying to find an alternative to IKEA here folks.  I’d love to shop local and support the little guy, but those damned Swedes with their good prices and relatively comfortable pieces and delivery are calling to me.  “Ve huv sofas end matchink sofa beds end cumfy chayerrs – ull vith slip cuverrs…  Cooom to de Scandinavian siede Headder!”  Oh God, it may be too late!