David: At first I thought the blue padded mat was part of one of those Barton Patient Transfer Systems, a device that allows folks to maneuver their elderly and addled family members effortlessly in and out of bed. But no, no, no this divan sandwich has been put together by a homeowner who is completely mobile and independent — in fact he’s a bit of a revolutionary. Any and all rules of taste, symmetry and sanity have been jettisoned in favor of this mish-mashed paean to Dadaism — the World War I art movement that rejected logic and embraceed chaos, irrationality, Girl Scout badges and Hollie Hobbies.

Steve: When you mount me, it’s okay to get excited, but not too, too excited because I still haven’t built the wall brace and shelving for my enamel pin collection (every roller coaster between Mississippi and Vermont) and these dolls I found. I’ve discovered that when the motion becomes vigorous or too rhythmic, everything topples down into the space between my electric sleeping bag and the water sofa.

While you’re up, could you get me another Grapico?

Steve: This is the story of a simple man, surrounded by rich fabrics, beautiful men, and incredible bargains on showroom-quality home furnishings. Let the man be known as “Ted.” A.K.A. “Snuggles.” Ted’s secret underwear are about to be unleashed on an unprepared world.

Nothing can make you ready to receive what you’re about to encounter.