
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, June 28, 1995                   TAG: 9506280009
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

MAYBE THERE'S A COUCH AT THE POOR FARM

All right. Enough is enough. I admit it. I misidentified the 20th Maine in a recent piece. Let's just forget it. OK? I mean, you think we need a grand jury here or something?

I've got my problems, and they don't have anything to do with the Battle of Gettysburg.

I hope it makes all of you 20th Maine fans happy that I've developed a tic, stare vacantly a lot and wander aimlessly among the displays of scotch whiskey I can't afford at the ABC store.

The reason for this is that we are now engaged in THE GREAT SEARCH FOR A NEW COUCH THAT WE HOPE WILL LAST US UNTIL WE ARE GATHERED TO THE BOSOM OF ABRAHAM.

Normally, the only interest I have in a couch is to make sure it's long enough for me to sleep on, if I were allowed to do so. Which I'm not.

But you know the search is on when you get up one morning - fighting the temptation to kick the cat away from your ankles and giving the dog her bone that's supposed to make her teeth really white - and find a half dozen pieces of cloth on the kitchen table.

At such times, although a cold wind has clearly blown through the kitchen, you get into denial as a protective reaction.

Those pieces of cloth aren't samples of stuff that would cover a couch, you tell yourself as the cat ignores her Good Kitty Mixed Veal and Tuna Treat.

Somebody is merely making a colorful pillow case or something. Sure. That's it. Something cute and charming and inexpensive. Ha. Ha.

There's nothing wrong with the couch you've got. It has fallen in on itself a little bit and it has that white paint on one of the cushions. Still, the dog hair on one of the arms is, well, kind of homey.

But there comes a time when you have to face reality and prepare yourself for the worst.

In other words, pal, when your wife leaves cloth swatches on the table and is carrying a sample of the country kitchen no-wax around in her pocketbook, you're going to be supporting a new couch pretty soon.

I'm going to pull myself together. No use acting like that over a new couch. A man does what he has to do.

I'm going to confront this thing head-on. I'm going to bring it up some morning.

I'm going to say something like:

"I think a new couch is a great idea. Let's do lunch sometime and take mutual vows of poverty.

"There's the phone again. I'll get it. Probably somebody calling about the 20th Maine."

by CNB