If it were up to me, my car would die from just sitting in the driveway and the couch would have my name crocheted into its cushions with its own little pantry of snacks and the TV looped with marathons of House or Frasier or How to Get Away with Murder.
Money Heist or Prison Break – it wouldn’t matter, my TV would be an iPod stuck on shuffle, the perfect game of Russian Roulette where either way I’d win – I’d be happy.
I’d have a cubby to store my laptop or books for when I’m in the mood; anything Khaled Hosseini or Paulo Coelho, Freud or Jung, Shonda Bryne or Don Miguel Ruiz – they’re all great choices, because they’re my choices.
I’d start a blog in Spanish and have my husband be my editor. Hook a pen around his ear just for show and have him teach me all about Dominican lingo.
Qué lo qué. Guagua. Concho. Chapiadora.
But for now, that’ll suffice.
Clock could read 4 p.m. and I’d still be on my couch because it’s my favorite place to be, home – yet I feel it escapes me every time my alarm tells me there’s something I have to do because that’s just how the world works.
I don’t make money from watching television or reading literature or learning Spanish. Going to the gym or studying nutrition or being certified in personal training. I hold two degrees in Film and Psychology but no, none of that matters because none of that makes money.
Except it does.
Each hobby I have is a career waiting to happen. I don’t know why it hasn’t happened, but I swear it has something to do with my couch. The comfort it gives, like intoxication. A moment of peace, do I deserve it?
A life full of peace, could I deserve it? I don’t know.
All I know is House is on and I’m listening. Or is that Frasier? Curse this shuffle. This circle of comfort.
I’m selling my couch. No, too far.
I’ll sell this fear. To whoever will buy it. Refresh the page and start over. Open a new note where my rent gets paid for and my heart feels full. I don’t want to just get by if it means feeling this way. Lonely, lost, and buried in shows I know I can make. I know I can do this.
For the sake of my couch, I have to do this.
I just have to start my car first.
And I will,
right after I finish this episode.
B.K Laurel 