It seems to me there is entirely too much frivolous talk among men about the frailties of women; for instance, about their propensity to move the furniture around without notice. Many irrefutable arguments could be advanced in favor of these frequent changes -- such as, good for the furniture, good for the floor, good for the rugs and paint, good for the morale -- but it is useless to contend with the illogical minds of men. Here is just one example of what a woman encounters when she tries to brighten encounters [sic] slightest deviation from routine.
When it became necessary to move grandfather's furniture to our house, there had to be some changes made. He has a big desk, and he has to have it conveniently located, since he is still active in insurance work, farmer's elevator and other affairs. But our office is not large enough for three desks. One had to be put into the dining room, and on account of location, lighting and such considerations, it was decided we'd better move Jim's to the new place and put grandfather's in the office. So far, so good. That was a man's plan, carried out by the men, hence incontrovertibly reasonable and logical.
Now before we go farther, let me impress upon you one fact: For 15 years or more Jim's desk had been left in the same location to the inch. After every housecleaning it was restored to its exact place. My own desk, at the other end of the room, had been shifted a bit here and there, and back again, and arrangement of correlated accessories had undergone trivial, if frequent, alterations. But Jim's desk had known this one transfer, and this one alone, as I say, for more than 15 years. Yet -- can you believe it? -- a few days later I happened to remark, half to myself, while we were doing the supper dishes, that I believed when housecleaning time arrived I would move my own desk and its miscelany of files and supplies to the dining room and his back, to leave the office entirely to the men. Jim's mouth fell open in utter astonsishment, and he nearly dropped my favorite cut-glass jelly dish.
"Move it?" he expostulated. "Move it? For heaven's sake, why? Eternal change!"
Isn't that just like a man? -- Hope.
Memory Gem
Some folks dream of becoming something; others stay awake and are something.