The couch that S and I bought this year for our new apartment is a piece of shit. I think about my sister's amazing suede couch and I cry inside. While we could never afford the couches my sister has, I wish we had splurged a bit more, so that an hour on the couch didn't leave my lower back screaming. There is NO support left in any of the cushions, or even in the back of the actual couch. It's so uncomfortable I could scream. By 8, after a few hours of intermittant couch sitting, I want to take ten advil and go to bed. I end up contorting my body in any way I can just to find some measure of comfort. I'm never very successful. In fact, right now my lower back is yelling at me to move, but the options are the floor, the couch or the bed, and I'm sticking with the couch. Resolutely and uncomfortably.
Right now, S is wrapping presents. I believe I mentioned that I was sucky wrapper, which is why he's wrapping one of my presents for someone else right now. To be fair, he's only wrapping 3 out of all the presents I will have wrapped this year, and I wish it was more. One of the presents I wrapped for him is comical in how absolutely horrible it looks. It looks like a four year old found paper, tape and a box, and stuck them together in something approximating a wrapped present. I suppose I should be embarrasssed, but I'm not. It's not like he will care. (Though interestingly enough, he's very concerned with how his presents look. He's a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to the presents, apparently. Well, from now on, he can wrap as many presents as he wants.) Like everything S does, it takes him a long time, but when he's done, it's really worth the wait. I guess I can't fault him for wanting to give nice presents. Whereas I just want to get the wrapping overwith.
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