We saw the Psycho Couch at an antique shop early last summer. I really wanted it right away. I felt an instant connection to the piece, but it remained on the periphery of my consciousness for a long time. It seemed luxurious beyond my spartan sense of home decor. The sole occupant of my living room for most of the time I have lived in this apartment was a weight bench. No television, no soft place to sit, only the weight bench and an old bar I used to stand up while I draw write, or organize my paperwork. I even write a poem about it and Jenny did an illustration to accompany the poem.