Have You Hugged Your Sofa Today?

I wonder if there is something dysfunctional about being comforted by furniture. All the stuff that we had shipped over from Singapore finally arrived a couple of days ago. Most of it is now set up where we want it in our new house. And with that, to borrow a tired but true cliche, the house has become a home.

Our neighbour's seven-year-old daughter had come over earlier today to pay her daily visit. She surveyed the living room and announced "Your stuff looks really different." And so it does. The crappy faux country muddy brown junk that we had rented for the past month is finally gone. In it's place is a suite of furniture in an eclectic style that can best be described as Ikea meets Indonesia. That sounds schizophrenic, but it's a combination that looks pretty good to my eyes.

So now as I type this sitting at my dining table, I can intermittently look up at my television set and see where Hugh Grant is at in his reluctant journey to fatherhood.

It's a night for romantic comedy and we've come to the climax of a Hugh Grant movie marathon with Nine Months. Of all his movies this must be his lamest in every possible way. But despite it's mediocrity it is a great caricature of the Hugh Grant school of acting - mildly eccentric, harmlessly amusing, and as comfortable as an old couch. Which is why, as bad as the movie is, I can always watch it once again. I mean, given a choice between loading the dishwasher and watching Nine Months for the seventh time, I'd choose Nine Months any day.

I think that says something. I think it shows that when you want a bit of mood-elevation, a dose of something familiar is exactly what you need.

And that's precisely why I am so pleased to have my furniture with me again. It's great to be able to relax at the end of the day, surrounded by familiar everyday objects.

It's ... comforting.