Picture me Sunday morning, lounging on the Futon of Infinite Comfort and waiting for Pablo to call so we could move his new furniture. I think I may have been watching The Matrix at that point, or maybe yelling at the telly as Dr. Kennedy attempted to sermonize on how free market capitalism is the only economic system sanctioned by the gospels. I don't remember, and I'm not sure that it matters. What I really want to share is that at some point, I turned my head and felt a slight twang in my neck. The next moment was perfectly still, a temporal phenomenon that gave me just enough time to contemplate how much pain I was about to feel. Before I knew it, I had rolled off the futon and was lying on the floor groaning. When I finally got up, I noticed a trail of drool that I had left in my wake.
So yeah, though there are other identifiable factors, I managed to injure myself on my couch.
I told all of this to my doctor, and she said entirely without irony, "Couches are far more dangerous than you would think."