It finally feels truly like fall. Temperatures are cresting in the mid-eighties and cooling into the sixties at night, and there are different birds eating the seeds (and baiting MissCleo) in the back yard. As I write this, I have the air conditioning off, and the windows in the bedroom are open wide. Until the sun went down, I was watching the water in the pool reflect the sky, the trees, whatever.

Fuzzy has another trip coming up and I threatened to redecorate the living room. He’s panicked. Now, understand that when I say “redecorate,” I don’t mean that I plan to call strapping young men in cute uniforms and tool belts to install home theater lighting in my living room. I mean I might move one of the couches to a different wall, or move a lamp or two. Nothing major, just a small change.

Fuzzy is one of those people who does not embrace change well. He is also one of those people who cannot find objects that are located behind other objects. I pointed out to him that my couch-moving plan would place the back of the couch against a wall, so that nothing would be behind it. He asked me if I’d measured the space.

I do not need to measure the space to know if my couch will fit. I can look at it and tell.

At least he didn’t ask, “What wall?”