Whoops!

So I was gonna write about being accident prone.  How, as a child, I had a habit of getting myself into situations where I was destined to be injured and that now, as an adult, I have a propensity of cutting corners too sharply, scraping my shins while exiting from vehicles, and conking myself on the head when I know damn well to duck in that part of the basement.

Yes, yes I was gonna write about that.

So we'd had dinner and were relaxing in the living room.  We were enjoying a bit of downtime when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the cat had wandered into the space between the sofa and the wall, next to where The Awesome Boyfriend was seated.  She has been known to sit there, under the side-table at times, so this wasn't a new maneuver for her.  After a few minutes, The Awesome Boyfriend turned to me and said "hey - is the cat behind us?"

Thus began a 20-minute stress-filled, furniture moving exercise whereby we needed to figure out how our feline had climbed up into our couch and, far more importantly, how we were going to assist in her removal from it.  It wasn't until we started to urgently call for her, shine flashlights underneath the couch, and move it into the middle of the room that she started to meow rather strongly, probably more reacting to our increasing nervousness than any discomfort she was feeling.

Anyway so yes - I was going to write about my being a klutz but had to set that aside because our couch was trying to eat our cat.

It's nice to know that it runs in the family.
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(Follow Up:  The feline in question is perfectly fine and is blissfully slumbering in her bed, having chomped down on the large handful of treats she received after FINALLY emerging from our couch.  We, on the other hand, are still recovering from the stress, worry, and immediate response needed to ensure her safe extraction from what is clearly a cat-eating sofa.)