"That couch," observed the salesperson, "is twice as smart at being a couch than you are at being a person." It was a somewhat insulting thing for an IKEA salesperson to say, but I was in Paris and they had stereotypes to maintain. Besides he had a point. I didn't know if it was something in the subtly adjusting angles, the temperature of the leather, or what, but it was comfier than I had thought possible a couch could be, and after a few minutes it surely knew more about my physical and emotional state than myself. It was also purring almost inaudibly, I realized, and I knew I was going to buy it.
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