The arrival of our first-ever grown-up couch, as mentioned in the previous blog post, has triggered many memories of past furniture experiences. Memories of my childhood furniture being perpetually covered with sheets. Memories of objects becoming lost in the cushions -- remote controls, Cheez-Its, whole civilizations. And memories of Joe's purple couches.
I myself do not have any memories of Joe's purple couches, which is fortunate. Nor did I possess any knowledge of these purple couches until this time.
"You used to have...purple...couches?" I asked slowly when this was revealed.
"Yeah, they were great! Huge. I could barely get them in the apartment."
"You never told me you had...purple...couches," I said. I tried to assimilate this information, as one tries to reconcile some sudden, unsettling piece of knowledge about a loved one's past, such as that he or she used to rob banks, or owned thirty cats at the same time.
I endeavored to find out more. "What did these...purple...couches look like?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Just purple."
"Well, were they dark purple?" I persisted. "Light purple? Leather? Fabric? Polka-dotted?"
He was vague as to any details, except that they had not contained any polka dots. This was scant comfort to my imagination, which conjured up something out of Solomon's palace, or a fortune-teller's chamber -- beaded and jeweled, elaborate curves, deep purple velvet. Tacky. Gaudy.
I asked what had happened to the purple couches.
"No one wanted them," he said. "I couldn't give them away. I had to haul them to the Dumpster."
They must have been more hideous than even I had imagined.
I looked at this man who had owned not one, but two purple couches -- proudly owned them. How could one not know something of this magnitude about another person? And most important, was he still fond of purple couches? Did he harbor a secret wish to own one again?
He gave assurances that he loved our new couch, which is decidedly un-purple.
Yet I remained uncomfortable with my new knowledge. I wondered what else might be lurking in his past that I did not know about.
"So, did you ever own more than one cat at a time...?"
6 comments:
Ahhh, I wondered if the famed purple couches would ever make it into the blog. I remember well the acquisition of said furniture, perhaps the heaviest possession ever moved into any apartment. There was great joy when they arrived, only somewhat offset by the slight, but permanent fish odor courtesy of the truck in which they were transported. It was a sad day indeed when the Salvation Army refused the couches, forcing their disposal by the dumpster there in Des Plaines.
Wow...I don't even KNOW what to do with this information...Purple like
...EGGPLANT??? And ya think ya know
your neighbors...NO WONDER there is
a wheat issue.....
i should have taken a picture of those purple coaches in the dumpster's it was fantastic. They took every inch of the opening and protruded into the air looking something like a giant's attempt to making a golf club out of dumpsters and these fuzzy purple chaffs.
fish odor - oh i thought that was you and a bad lunch :)
Oh, Squire, Squire...YOU were party to this purple travesty?? How could you let me down thus?? I trusted you to steer the Hero right! (The fact that I didn't know either of you at this point does not offer any excuses.) My faith in humanity -- particularly in squires -- has received a frightful blow...who knows whether I shall ever recover?!
Alas, as a faithful squire, it was my duty to do the bidding of my lord, even when it involved such questionable practices as acquiring purple couches. Also, there is no truth to the rumor that I was highly compensated for such actions, although I do seem to remember a free lunch being included.
Yay, Squire, I do understand that m'lord's bidding can at times be quite persuasive...which explains why we have a bright red rug in our house...(which I love, m'lord! Truly!)
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