Rearranging

There are downsides to sticking something in a dark corner, or out of sight in another room you never go to or don't use because it's not temperature controlled. But sometimes you don't realize it until it's time to make a change. And too often that change isn't even thought of until some reason comes along and slaps you in the face.

We've been moving furniture. Everybody's happier.

It began with need. Rich's stuff hasn't been fitting into the lanai with our stuff already there, nor does the workroom work either as overflow for him or in being accessible to us to use. After all, there was a reason I asked for the power tools in the divorce back when. I used them, saws, drills, sanders, whatever. I painted, hammered, dreamed up ideas and brought home parts. What I made never lasted, but served temporary needs. I kept the tools, however.

A deadline has been approaching, the need to get organized to make the house usable again before we head north. Richard will be staying here, and what he has now simply isn't livable. So I sat and thought, thought and sat, got up and measured, and made a plan. The guys agreed. Rich did most of the work.

The first thing needing to move, the first domino to fall if you will, was the hutch in the corner. It's a dark corner, blocked off by the dining table (now, finally, mostly uncluttered). It just stood there. The top half is a display cabinet, glass front doors and shelves, framed in oak. Beautiful. Dark. Ignored. And somehow, through closed and latched doors, collecting dust inside and out. Its destination was the front entryway. But that wasn't the very first plan.

The hutch houses glass, a combination of carnival glass and crystal, mostly pieces collected during auctions when I worked for one. Eventually the market for the stuff didn't catch up to the supply of it, and auction prices reached my pocketbook level. Then there were the occasional work trips down 35 to Owatonna or further, passing an outlet mall with a Mikasa store. I loved that store! Maybe a piece here, two matching ones there, over the years that collection grew too. Everything sat safely tucked and stacked in that hutch, ignored by all but the dust. My silly plan was to get, aka buy, some piece of furniture to put everything on in the entryway and work to sell off the hutch. After not finding anything to do the job of displaying things properly, my sleepy brain decided to measure the hutch and see how it matched the space. Duh!

Friday was partly spent emptying out everything and storing it safely in crates on the floor out of the moving path of furniture. People too, and making sure the TV VCR box wasn't blocked! Yesterday was spent washing glassware, and trying to find homes for a couple things I had never used, would never use, in order to give up their spaces, enabling prized pieces to be shown off rather than just stacked up.

Discoveries were made. There were two dish sets in the bottom, which I knew, but had only the vaguest idea of patterns, style, or pieces. One I'm keeping. Maybe someday I'll  use them, right? Right? The carnival glass surprises were a delight. I'd collected for variety of color. I mean, why else, right? Get at least one of everything and throw in some vaseline glass. As they were pulled out, patterns emerged, designs, shapes, workmanship started standing out, more so after washing. Once the buffet was in its new position, light from the front picture window reached into it and suddenly, now filled and arranged more artfully, it houses rainbows. 

With all the color, the value of those collectible pieces, the prized ones are a set of not-too-expensive clear crystal goblets, thinnest rims I've ever seen, a common wheat pattern in the glass. What makes them special is they are the  unchipped remains of a set given to my parents as a wedding present back on May 10, 1941. In a month they will be 80 years old. I am not aware of them ever being used, so likely it was moving over the years that damaged the others.

As a practical matter, a block of wood on the floor keeps the house's front door knob from smashing through the hutch glass if the front door is carelessly thrown open. 

Moving it was a two person job, and neither Steve nor I were among the two. Rich has been making friends down here, and one person is trading favors with him. Lending his strength was his part of their latest exchange. Since Rich was taking up his time, the next move had to be made at the same time. That was bringing Steve's roll-top desk in from the lanai to put in the corner where the hutch had been. The desk had also been ignored for years, partly because it just wasn't seen, partly because the lanai isn't climate controlled so it's always too hot or too cold there, and lastly, Richard's clutter made it both unsafe and impossible for Steve to access the desk. Of course the desk is deeper than the hutch, so the table had to be moved closer to the kitchen. I'd spent two weeks clearing it off after two years procrastinating about clearing it off, so finally that was a job Steve and I could handle. With the desk moved, Rich unburied the rug protector that goes with it and brought it out. The big office chair that goes with the desk is still out in the lanai, holding a stack of Rich's stuff taller than its back, but it should be out here soon. Or else. I'm giving Rich a chance to properly relocate what's on it, but I'm fully prepared to dump and roll.

 I'm thinking Tuesday.

Rich now has a wide a wide open space to fill, and he's been busy with the large pieces going into it, He cut the legs on one of two nightstands so the height matches on their tops. Then there is a wide wooden storage piece about 5" tall that goes across, tying the two together as a platform for the dresser topping it all off. His plan ultimately is to move the whole of that into the workroom, but first its spaces have to be filled so all the detritus is out of the way and it fits in the workroom. 

Did I say "all"? Silly me.

My goal for Steve and myself is just to have a permanent and safe path through both lanai and workroom so we can access tools, and mail dropped through the door slot. My goal for Rich is to have a bed (futon) he can actually use, instead of storing two foot tall piles of stuff. He'll then know where things are, rather than burrowing through all the piles for whatever's missing, rearranging those piles so much he can never find the next thing or the next next thing, in the process of which he again loses that first thing. Oy!

Just call me an optimist. Snicker all you want.