Yesterday was moving day at the law firm--we left the old-school downtown space (with unheatable high ceilings and windows only in the front) for a new spot three blocks down. Since I'm rarely there, this won't affect my daily life very much, but Clara, Daisy and I went first thing in the morning to start loading boxes and files into the van.
After a lot of hard and dusty work* with all the others--ten lawyers, an extra husband, and two college students--we had the office empty, we thought. Until Clara asked if anyone had started on the attic.
In fact, they had not. We set up a bucket brigade on the ancient narrow wooden stairs and handed down a roomful of junk. Mostly out-of-date Federal Digests, but also this beautiful mirror, which I brought home. Carved corners, glass all a mess just like I like it, and carefully written on the back, "Resilvered January 1954."
* The question arose as we made a spectacle of ourselves on the street: How many lawyers does it take to move a conference table? The answer was eight, since the table (handmade by my brother from trees he had felled himself) weighed several hundred pounds.