Nothing can separate man and his sofa

By Grant McGee: Local columnist

The phone rang and woke me from a glorious Saturday afternoon nap. The Lady of the House took the call as I slowly re-entered reality. I smiled to myself. Life doesn’t get any better than this: resting on pillows, bare feet sticking out over the end of the sofa, easy music on the hi-fi. I reached behind me, grabbed my glass, had a long drink of cool water and pondered my life from the sofa.

I don’t think people like to see a reclining person, in America anyway. I think it must be that old Anglo-Saxon/Puritan/whatever work ethic thing. This was driven home in my mind from the time I took a reclining lawn chair to a fiddler’s contest in Roswell. I unfolded the thing and stretched out. I looked around. I was the only guy with a lounger. A crusty Pecos Valley cowboy came ambling by.

“Hope you’re comfortable,” he sneered.

“Yes sir,” I said. “Matter of fact I am. You should try it.”

He grunted and kept ambling on.

Come to think of it, more than a few folks I’ve run into in life have gotten irritated by my reclining habits. Like my dad. When he saw me stretched out on the sofa, his term of endearment was “lazy.” My Mom came to my defense, though. Hearing what my Dad said, she called out from the kitchen, “He’s not lazy, he just not properly motivated.”

Great line. I still use it to this day.

My grandmother was another one to disdain my sofa habits. She would give me a hard time, sitting across the room in her easy chair smoking her filter-less Raleigh cigarette. I think she just didn’t like to see people lying down.

She had this thing about beds too. Once you were up and you’ve made the bed you couldn’t lay down on it again until bedtime. She didn’t even like to see me daydreaming under her elm tree. Now when my cousin Dave came over, he got to lie around on the sofa all he wanted all day long. I think that’s because he was my Uncle Bud’s son and my grandma liked Uncle Bud better than my dad. Whatever, but I do know Cousin Dave had the stinkiest feet of anyone I’ve ever encountered.
It’s been a long, strange trip as an adult on my various sofas.

My first partner didn’t understand the fine art of reposing on the sofa. After getting up before the crack o’ dawn to go to work , I’d come home hoping for some sofa time. She didn’t see things that way. No sooner than I’d stretch out on those big, overstuffed cushions than she’d have something for me to do. It seemed she always had something for me to do.

Then there was the next roommate. Our house was like most homes — it had only one sofa. I found out she didn’t want me to relax there because that’s what she wanted to do. So I took to reclining on the floor. Life looked more interesting from that angle anyway.

The Lady of the House lets me lie around on the sofa as much as I want. Of course I make sure I get all my chores done first. Life with her is a dream.

No, life doesn’t get any better than relaxing on the sofa on a weekend afternoon. For me, anyway.

Grant McGee hosts the weekday morning show on KTQM-FM in Clovis. Contact him at: