Last night, Pete and my niece Lois prepped food for a party the family’s throwing tonight for my mother’s birthday. After three hours of slicing, peeling and chopping, Pete washed his hands and took out the compost.
Pete: Do you know anything about a couch in our backyard?
Tata: A what?
Pete: There’s a couch in our backyard.
Tata: I do not know anything about a couch in our backyard and you’d think if we had a couch in our backyard I’d know something about that.
We went out for a look.
Pete: This is not your couch?
Tata: No, it is not my couch, but if a mysterious couch were actually a gift from God, this would be the couch God would have delivered.
Tata: Because this is chaise longue in a miniature leopard print.
Lois: This is like the perfect thing, isn’t it?
Tata: Well, for my current living room it should be zebra, but THERE IS A COUCH IN THE BACKYARD.
Pete: I’ll call the tenants and ask if they know anything about it.
Pete walked away and started dialing. I grabbed one end and lifted up the couch too easily for it to be expensive.
Tata: Or maybe it’s IKEA. That would be good news for ME.
Pete: Jane says it was at her ex-boyfriend’s house and it wasn’t cheap.
Tata: No, of course not, but a couple of nights outside and it’ll be trash. We can’t leave it here. It looks lonely!
Pete: We’ll keep it next to the garage, but we’re not bringing it inside and we’re definitely not feeding it.
In other, preposterous news: the father of Poppy, married last weekend to my cousin Tony, was killed last night in a motorcycle accident. If you saw it in a movie you’d get up and walk out.