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It's funny how a piece of furniture becomes a battlefield.

Last night, there I was, arguing with my ten-year-old and five-year-old over the most sacred real estate in the house: the left-side edge of the couch.

Why? Because my children don't grasp the concept that Dad's spot is, well, Dad's spot. Maybe I've been too subtle over the years, calling it "my office away from office" while lounging there with my book, laptop, and a cup of coffee that always goes cold.

It's curious, this need to claim a spot. A primal instinct, disguised as comfort, familiarity, and maybe a bit of stubbornness. My corner isn't just a place to sit. It's my creative den. My reading nook. My throne for scrolling through updates that make me wonder how humanity keeps itself entertained. Maybe that’s why it’s so important: it’s mine. A quiet corner in the chaos of home life.

And yet, I’m amused by the absurdity of it. Here I am, a supposedly well-adjusted adult, guarding an imaginary fence around a cushion. A marketing professional, thinking about brand equity by day, reduced to defending my position—on a couch—by night.

Maybe it’s my way of retaining some control in a house full of unpredictability. Like how the remote mysteriously ends up under the sink, behind the curtains, or in the fridge. Or maybe, it’s just human nature: we love what’s familiar. And my couch corner is familiar.

We all need our corners. Little spaces that comfort us in the chaos and unpredictability of daily life. Mine is that worn-out bit of fabric on the left side of the couch, thanks to the cat. And I’m not giving it up without a fight. Even if that means negotiating with a five-year-old who's convinced my spot is the best place to park himself for cartoons.

I’ll admit, there's something endearing about it. Even my kids know that corner is special.

At the end of the day, though, it’s just a couch. And as much as I treasure it, it’s not the cushion that matters. It’s the place where I write, where I learn, where I laugh, where I have debates with my kids that, eventually, they'll win.

But for now, it’s still mine. And anyone sitting there better be ready to move—or at least make a lot of room for me and my clutter.