My couch is sticky, like a sweaty fat man

When we first moved to Maine, Patty and I spent more than I care to admit on a leather sectional couch. We were sitting at the kitchen counter asking ourselves: "Should we spend all this money on poor starving kids in South America, or should we get a large piece of furniture?". I've never looked into the details, but I'm pretty sure an entire village vanished due to our selfishness.

Anyway, it's summer in Maine and for us that means one day it'll be beautiful and 80 and the next 65 and completely overcast with dense fog rolling in off the water. On the humid days (like today) my wonderful leather sectional soaks up the moisture in the air, then in the evening when it cools down it becomes as comfortable to lean against as a wet dog. So there I sit, with a fleece blanket between me and the offending leather.

I guess the moral of this story is to choose life. Or maybe it's to buy suede instead of a buffed full grain leather. I don't know. All I know is, my couch is pretty gross to sit on sometimes.