Our Ugly Little House (BYU Approved Housing?)

"Which one of these couches is going to kill my back?" Carly asks. "That one." I point to the fraying, striped floral couch. Whenever a person sat on it, they would rise with an extremely sore bottom because of poorly-cushioned springs. "Oh. I'll sit on this one." Carly replied. I began to clear off the worksheets and laptops from the "comfy" couch so that Carly could sit. I didn't know where to place the collected papers, seeing as our bulky, 70's era coffee table was already covered with plates, candy wrappers, and stacks of DVDs--I dropped the stuff onto the stained carpet. As I leaned to clean the mess of papers, I felt the rough patch of carpet where we'd forgotten to properly clean up the spilled milk from weeks past. Oops. "I just love your guys' house, Mandy." Carly raved. I smiled. This place was heinous--outdated and inadequate--yet it was our home. So, I sat down on the bum-breaking couch and answered, "Yep. I think I like it too."