et it be known that today is the day I got my couch. Let it be known that the couch is red--as red as red can be--and that it conveniently folds down into a bed for friendly visitors, making it more accurately a “futon.” But let it be known that it does not look like a futon, whose lumpy, slack composure I left behind along with my college days of Ramen noodles and an aversion to laundry. Let it be known that, apparently, my college days aren’t really that far behind me, at least according to the mad-crazy pile of laundry in my bedroom. But let it be known that I never eat Ramen noodles! (I prefer Kraft’s shells and cheese.) Let it be known that the couch—or the futon, whatever—is quite comfortable. Although, let it be known that two slabs of ice-cold concrete might be better than what I had been sitting on, two sad pillows stained with soy sauce from sloppy sushi. Let it be known that I did not intend the sibilance in the previous sentence. Let it be known that I had to look up the spelling of “sibilance.” But let it be known that all that was done from the comfort of a couch!(Or a futon.) Who cares? It’s mine.