An open letter to my couch

Hello, Couch.


As moms, it's frowned upon for us to take out our frustrations on our children, or our husbands, or other unwitting family members and friends- so occasionally we have to find another source... maybe even an inanimate object.
That for me, right now, is you. I'm sorry, couch.
Or maybe i'm not- because come to think of it, you deserve my hatred- even if not all the reasons are necessarily your fault.

So yeah, i'll say it: I fucking hate you, couch.

You slump so much in the middle of each cushion that I can't even sit on you for very long without increasing my back pain exponentially- thanks a lot for that. You slump so much in the middle of each cushion that i'm tempted to buy those ridiculous slats off of that obnoxious infomercial that sells what I am quite positive is nothing more than a piece of plywood just to even slightly alleviate the problem- even if it feels like sitting on concrete.
Do I really need to feel bad for SITTING on you? Isn't that what you were CREATED for, couch? Why do you exist if you can't handle my ass on you?

What I hate even more than you is the fact that I cannot replace you.
Why??
KIDS!

I have little kids who enjoy emptying their bladders on you randomly (hence why you have long since been dubbed the 'pissy couch'); they dump milk into your cushions, and wipe boogers all over your fabric- and thanks to your coloring (the coloring I oohed and aahed about because YAY, it will HIDE dirt!)- I can never find those disgusting little snot piles. You are full of stale tears, drool, crusty old spitup that just wouldn't soak into a paper towel, and enough fart juice to fill a blimp. The puppy puts his dirty fucking feet all over you, my dumb drunk self spills beverages all over you more often than i'd care to admit, and my stank-ass of a two year old sweats his funk all over you every.single.day. There may or may not have been a poop on the couch. There may or may not have been more than one poop on the couch, but that is a secret I am taking to the grave.

SO tell me why the hell would I buy a brand spankin' NEW couch just to ruin it in under 3 hours? Why would I spend ALL of this money knowing the fate a new couch would be facing?
 Easy answer: I wouldn't. So i'm fucking stuck with your awful pissy ass. Probably forever.

I picked you out especially- I liked you once. Hell, I may have even loved you. You were the perfect mix of  inexpensive and modern, and only lightly used- and now you're a disgusting canker sore in the middle of my living room. You don't even match the other couch. I used to find that charming, now I find it annoying.
What happened to us couch? Where did we go wrong? Will we ever be able to work out our differences.. or are the stinky, smelly, crusty, saggy things coming between us just too much to overcome?

On second thought... it would appear the only things making you so loathsome are my ass, and my kids- maybe I should get rid of both of those instead.