The sofa cushions were not fond of their lot in life. Accept what you are, the carpet told them. Just keep yourself to yourself, and don’t rock the boat, the wide screen TV harped, over and over. The worst was the ceiling fan, who would go on and on about everyone’s place in the world, and they all had this special and unique part to play in the “grand scheme of things.” The sofa cushions agreed that the fan should go stuff itself into the vacuum and die. They didn’t hate being cushions. They just hated babysitting the throw pillows.