Musical chairs with the furniture

A generous serving of pepperoni pizza woke me up at 3 a.m. My daughter’s generosity with our living room furniture kept me awake. A couple years ago, I found a pair of interesting end tables at a garage ale. I offered them to my newly married son and his wife. They used them until a small apartment and baby demanded the space that the end tables took.
As soon as the end tables re-entered the house, my daughter wanted them in her bedroom.
“We need them in the living room,” I placed them strategically beside the couch.
I didn’t like the way it looked. “OK, you may have one. When you tire of it, we’ll find a place for it.”
Before she tired of it, I was wearied at the thought of rearranging the room for anything. “Take both for now.”
She smiled triumphantly and toted the second one into her bedroom.
Friday at 10 p.m. as I passed our night owl’s room, on my way to bed, she was pulling the drawers out from her captain bed so she could move across the room. I collapsed into my bed and slept — until pepperoni heartburn woke me.
Miserably, I wandered out to the hall and bumped into the twin mattress the night own kept in her room for occasional visitors.
I was too wretched to care. I walked sleepily to the living room and came wide awake in disbelief. We had a great hole of nothingness against the wall where the love seat used to be.
I turned on the hall light, cracked open the door of the midnight decorator’s room and peered in. The love seat was there. She had covered it with a sheet that coordinated with her current color scheme and added a section of coordinating pillows.
Her audacity astounded me. I was too awake to go back to sleep.
I picked up my current cross stitch project and sat down to stitch and think. The lighting and cross stitch reminded me that I needed to buy a floor lamp to put behind my chair.
When the sun came up, I went garage sale shopping. Within an hour, I had a great buy on a new lamp in the style I wanted. It was still in its unopened, original package, a leftover Christmas gift.
By the time the midnight decorator woke up from her night’s work, the lamp was assembled and behind my chair.
“I like that lamp,” she greeted me.
“Thanks, I found it at a garage sale this morning.” I took a stitch. “By the way, I also found the love seat in your room this morning. I thought t fit rather well in the living room.”
“But the guys had it in their bedroom when they were in high school.”
“They did not,” I protested, stopped and realized, that when they were in high school we had an overflow of furniture. By default they had inherited the love seat.
I sighed in defeat.
She grinned, “Tell you what, Mom. I’ll move the love seat back to the living room, if you give me that lamp.”
“In your dreams. It’s mine.”
By evening, she had her brother’s lamp in her room, lighting the corner behind our love seat. And she wonders why I don’t buy more furniture.