Despite what science says, I’m convinced couch cushions are magnetic. Not in the traditional, North-and-South-pole sense, but in a much sneakier, domestic way. They attract loose change, car keys, TV remotes, and—given enough time and the right crime drama setting—possibly even murder weapons.
They also seem to possess a mystical gravitational pull for popcorn, cookie crumbs, and the occasional missing sock. And it’s not just mine. This is a universal phenomenon. I’ve tested it. Go lift the cushions on any couch. You’ll find the same strange cocktail of debris, as if couches everywhere are conspiring in some grand, crumb-collecting ritual.
I don’t know what causes it—the material, the shape, the oddly hypnotic swirl of 1980s upholstery patterns—but something about that combo creates an irresistible vortex. A Bermuda Triangle of the living room.
1 comment:
You're Right! It's all collected there except for the "plush" in the cushions. That disappears faster than other stuff is deposited, and you end up sitting lower and lower until you are in a deep depression - mentally and physically!
Post a Comment