M. Silver's Journal: I am *really* tired now.

The ex-workroom isn't the pristine, clean-to-the-walls shocker I was shooting for, but it's still gonna be a big surprise.

There's still the last bits of junk on the worktable, and my computer desk still has some fabric on it (chiefly the bits of proto-garb I sorted out to work on tomorrow), but the storage boxes against the south wall are gone (I think my son was genuinely surprised that there was a window there), the stack of fabric bolts under the counter is gone, and the stack of boxes and bolts under the worktable is gone. I'm going to have to drag the Shop-Vac up to take care of all the dust puppies (actually, these are partly dust teddy-bears, since I'm sure some of the fur there is synthetic).

My son was duly impressed (most of it happened while he was in preschool), especially when I told him after the worktable is moved, the little desk will be moved back so I can put a computer on it.

"For you?"

"No."

"For Daddy?"

"Nope."

"For who, then?"

"Well, Daddy and I already have computers, so..."

And his eyes lit up.