Rules Are Not For Me

Sarah (the asshole) has some completely arbitrary rules around the house. One rule that really pisses me off involves the two couches in the house. In the TV room, we have a hard, uncomfy couch without pillows. In the living room, we have a soft, super comfy couch with a bunch of pillows.

Now, Sarah only lets me go on one of these couches. I'm sure you're familiar enough with Sarah's asshole ways to know that I'm not allowed on the comfy couch, even though Sarah rarely uses it, AND it has a great view out the front window of the house.

Heavenly napping on the good couch - so close, yet so far away.

Luckily for me, Sarah is gone at least 8 hours a day at work. So, in the morning, after watching Sarah leave and making sure that the coast is clear, I jump right on up on the couch and settle in for a nice nap. Now, it's all fine and dandy when Sarah is at work and I can just snooze away. But when she comes home, I'm forced to obey the couch rule and only sleep on the uncomfy couch.

Admittedly, sometimes I try and break the rules, like when Sarah is watching TV and super caught up in paternity tests on Maury (she has AWFUL taste in television, like so many other things). But the moment that she gets up off of her butt and catches me, all hell breaks loose. She immediately yells at me, like I've eaten a pair of shoes or something really bad. I'm always thinking, chill the fuck out, Sarah, I'm just lying on the couch. It's not the end of the world.

I guess I really shouldn't expect anything else from Sarah, though. She is, after all, an asshole.