A bit more furniture moving yesterday, in the interest of squaring away my wardrobe for the winter; I shoved, hauled and cajoled two chests of drawers from one end of the upstairs to the other, reducing myself to a sweaty wreck in the process but damaging nothing, especially not myself.

I have a set of plastic skids that ease the passage of a large piece of furniture across the floor and prevent scratches in the hardwood. The tricky bit is sliding the skids under the feet — you have to take the drawers out to make the chest light enough to lift each foot an inch or so, and then put them back to make the chest heavy enough to stay on the skids during the shoving stage.

And today I realized that I have pretty well recreated my granny’s 1960 bedroom. Same furniture, arranged much the same way, plus a blanket box.

I marvel at my luck that, over 60 years, no one had a house fire or an attack of “everything new”.