12:45 a.m. How sore I am. How unbelievably sore. But it's a good sore. Bruised and banged up and chomped a little here and there -- but all for a good cause. The filing cabinets came today.

They, like me, are pretty banged up. Used and abused, each one a different shade of dun putty beige, and each one slightly different in size and shape and heft. But each one has five drawers and now my filing problems should be solved, once and for all.

I'm too tarred and scarred to take their photo tonight, but I'll do it in the morning. Before we could line them up like the old soldiers they are, we had to move nearly 30 large boxes of paperwork, which meant lifting and arm and leg bruising. But it's a good bruising.

I've already had a bath and a lathering with hand cream, and I'm still stinging and aching, but oh, so excited. Perfect files are a thing of beauty and a joy for the likes of me, and I can't wait to get up tomorrow morning and start laying out the piles all over the house. Lots of piles.

Now, if I thought I couldn't be any more excited about the file cabinets coming this afternoon, I was wrong. As Igor was wogging (walk-jogging) back from the post office, he came upon two of the most perfect big white bureaus you'll ever see.

Free. He wogged into the office, grabbed me out of my chair and dragged me right down the street to make a decision: yes or no. Oh, but it was exciting. And we had just the vehicle to bring them home with, and so it happens that we've hauled our first junk and now they are in my office, too.

Lovely photos tomorrow.

Also, I managed to fall out of my new chair this morning. I was sitting on the very edge of it, ready to roll backwards, but it sort of popped up and rolled over and before I knew what day it was I was on the floor looking up at its five-pronged legs spinning in the air. It's a very springy chair -- alive, almost.

So. My legs throb and my arms ache, and I have an entirely new office scene to survey. And I once again wonder at the amazing synchronicity of stuff on the street. If you want it, someone else doesn't.

And now I must ache off to bed. But it's a good ache.