Irreversible Mathematics Involving Sofas

Friends,

How long does it take two people of the MFA department to move a couch into an apartment? Turns out, about 90 minutes.

Today, I helped Philly baby move into his new apartment. It was painless for the most part, but that couch, oh that couch, was a beast. A cushiony devil. An upholestered daemon.

See, Phil moved into a place that, while not exactly a crack den, it's not exactly not a crack den either. We parked the UHaul in the alley behind his new place, blocking it from other people, in what turns out is a well-traveled alley. Anyway, all other manner of the move went easily, aside from the couch.

Phil hadn't measured before we brought the couch to his new apartment. So we just sort of hoped it would fit, and several times in the process, we had it wedged into the building at odd angles. We never really had to start over, but we just wedged it in part way, then figured out how to keep pushing it forward, around a curve, up a flight of stairs, another curve, and another, longer flight of stairs. It was wonderfully complicated, and when we finally slid that couch into his living room...I can only compare it to a successful birth. I don't know what else could compare. Thank god it didn't take 14 hours, and neither Phil or I broke our water or needed our perineums repaired as a result of the couch, but dammit. I just want a nap and someone to name that couch after my Dad.

But it is done. And it makes me realize that soon, I'll be moving to who knows where. And helping people I've grown close to over the three years here move too. Going to be some sore backs and wet eyes, let me tell you. Anyway, let's save that sappiness for when those moments come, and let's get back to the couch. Here is what I was reminded of when I was helping Phil with the couch.

Douglas Adams wrote a book called Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (which I have a first edition of...yes, be impressed with me). The book has a part in which a man is visiting another, and the man being visited has a couch stuck in the stairs to his place. Here's a section of the book in question:

[upon being asked how Richard liked his couch, because Reg had never been able to find a comfortable one in his entire life]

"Well, it's odd you should ask that," said Richard. "I've never sat on it."
"Very wise,"insisted Reg earnestly,"very, very wise." ...
"Not that Iwouldn't like to," said Richard. "It's just that it's stuck halfway up a long flight of stairs which leads up into my flat. As far as I can make it out, the deliverymen got it partway up the stairs, got it stuck, turned it around any way they could, couldn't get it any further, and then found, curiously enough, that they couldn't get it back down again. Now, that should be impossible."
"Odd, agreed Reg. "I've certainly never come across any irreversible mathematics involving sofas. Could be a new field. Have you spoken to any spatial geometricians?"
"I did better than that. I called in a neighbor's kid who used to be able to solve Rubik's cube in seventeen seconds. He sat on a step and stared at it for over an hour before pronouncing it irrevocably stuck..."

The couch comes back into play later, but I can't seem to find it right now. It's a decent book, but the sequel is better...and it's no Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. No how, no way.

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Unrelated note...here's a blogger challenge for you BOMM readers:
If you were designing the perfect fiction anthology, and you had 50 stories to select, what stories would you put in there? Now, how you define "perfect" is up to you. You can base it on enjoyment or teachability or something else. It's your call; however, let us adhere to the rule that you cannot use more than one story per author (no time or era constraints though). That means if you want Flannery O'Connor, you only get one story from her. the goal is what would you include in your perfect anthology of 50 stories. I'm still coming up with my list, but when I get it done, I'll post it.

Oh, and you poets or non-fictioners who stop by want to compile an anthology for your genre of the written arts, go ahead...just the one rule applies.

Viva el mustache.