Couch of Requirement

I have a Couch of Requirement. This is not to say that my couch produces things I want... usually the opposite, in fact. But it is a couch upon which Mama cat requires me to be. Loudly, vociferously, insistently, and unyieldingly, I am summoned to sit upon the damn couch. Not in the office. Not at the table. On. The. Couch. Along with Mama's blanky, her stuffed peep, her fuzzy ball, her robot hamster, and her other objects of fixation.

I'm telling you: cats have Asperger's.