Time is a funny thing. My 34-year old body never misses an opportunity to remind me that she’s getting older. A simple stretch a few days ago turned into many unpleasant days and sleepless nights from a spasm in my neck and shoulder that’s still bringing a few choice words to my lips as I write this. Most of us go to bed at night and wake up what seems like a few minutes later to the light of day and several hours passing on the clock, but a night filled with intense pain and no sleep will remind you just how long 8 hours actually is.
A well broke-in couch is both soft and comfortable, having spent many a year being slept and sat on against its will. If a couch had a will of course it probably wouldn’t choose a life of being squished constantly by heavy and dirty animals. But many a couch becomes too soft; too easy to sink into the cushions, where even trying to shift positions becomes a chore. Yes you’re comfortable for a few minutes, but that comfort ends and a battle to find a new comfortable position begins before you repeat again; the endless cycle of comfortable torment.
When I was a young girl, I didn’t really have much interest in cars. I enjoyed going to shows to look around at the old cars, but that was pretty much it. I didn’t know much about cars, and I still don’t really, and only reluctantly got my license when I was 16. We had a blue 1990 Oldsmobile Delta Eighty-Eight that I enjoyed driving with my friends, but I would never even think of just driving for the sake of driving.