I hit the ground running early this morning when inspiration struck. Move the love seat from the den back to the living room, and move the wingback to the den.

There is nothing unusual about this urge, as most women know. When the kids were itty bitty, I was always moving furniture around. In those days, though, upholstered furniture was big and heavy and hulking. Like that little engine that could, I would push and pull and edge until the room had yet another new look—not always, I fully admit, a better one.

Whenever those very same itty bitty ones would lock horns over nothing,  this only child, who had always longed for a sibling, would cry out in exasperation, “Why on earth would you fight over that? You should love each other. Why would you fight at all?” Once, in response, my daughter, who was seven or eight at the time, looked up at me and said simply, “Because it’s not boring.”

Which is precisely why we rearrange the furniture.

Today, I knew I had to break this news to Hubby, who, like every other husband on the planet, doesn’t get it. I did so gently, but this time I added, “Every woman likes to rearrange the furniture. It’s just what we do.” Remarkably, he agreed. I was stunned. Not one to push my luck, I decided to tell him about the new pillow plan–for color, of course—some other time.

A few hours later, he advised me to check the “to do” list on the counter. This is what I found:

Move TV room furniture. 
Move 2nd floor to 1st floor in June.
Move basement to 1st floor.

I’m not sure what happens to the first or second floor in this scenario. Oh well. Neither is he.