My favorite place is my living room not only because it’s the place where I can relax from all the stress of the day but also because the background to just about every warm family moment I’ve had four the past four years. There is no carpet anywhere in my house; it’s all beige tile that is cracked in some areas. Our house is much older than others in our neighborhood, and for some reason the heating vents downstairs are on the ceiling, which means it gets frigid in the fall and winter and it feels like stepping on ice cubes.
There are three separate couches because there is no discernible difference between the living and dining room so it’s a very large space. There are three people living in my house; my mom, my older brother and me, and there is a couch for each of us. We are not a very “touchy” kind of family, not because we don’t like each other but more because it’s just kind of awkward. My brother’s couch is solid black and made of a material that feels like suede and the other two are tan with thick black back cushions that are nearly identical, except that my mom’s couch has a chaise lounge attached. My mom and I’s couches are nearly identical because they were originally part of a two-piece sectional that we just rearranged. My couch is
one of my favorite places to be because the couch is so deep your whole body sinks right in, making it a perfect de-stressor after a hard day, but it’s easy to get stuck if you’re not careful.
We have a gigantic 40inch older, model Sony Trintron television that was given to us by my Grandmother and was so heavy it took three grown men to carry it. We have it sitting on a laughably small black plastic Ikea television stand that, despite being remarkably sturdy, looks as though it will buckle any minute. That television stand looks like Atlas when he was struggling to hold up the world on his back. The furniture...