photo: Francisco De Legarreta

FURNITURE

Nobody’s considerate enough to tell their furniture that it’ll be moving to another house. So when the movers come in unexpectedly and start wrapping them up with plastic, and padding them with blankets, and pushing them into the back of a dirty truck, panic strikes.

Now, panic in furniture is hardly perceivable. A drawer knob may turn nervously, a shelf may slide back and forth a few inches, consoles with skinny legs may tremble a bit, and while subtle sounds may be produced, no screams will be heard.

In its new home, furniture may be distributed differently than before; a side table might end up far away from the sofa it was intimately close to for many years. An armchair could be separated from its twin, and placed on another floor where they’ll never meet again. Disgraceful, yes, but it could be worse: furniture that doesn’t fit in the new place is stored in damp, cold garages or attics, given away, or dismantled for firewood.

One way or another, moving is a trying experience for furniture, with all the inappropriate handling by the sweaty hands of strangers, let alone the inevitable pain of scratches and dents.