I was planning to move into a large two-story frame house where my mother was living. My mother and I were in the room into which I was planning to move, on the second floor. There were two large brown shelves, and one set of white shelves, and I was planning to rearrange the shelves. The brown shelves were quite intricately designed. The white shelves weren't as intricate. I was thinking I would change the shelves around and put the white ones in between the brown ones. I thought the room would be quite comfortable when I finished with it.
On the shelves were some things which belonged to my sister, things which I thought I would have to move out. My sister also had a room there on the second floor, and I thought I could move her things into her room.
It was about 20 minutes until 2 o'clock; at 2 o'clock I was supposed to go to a class on American history which I was taking at the university. I had already missed several classes. Two classes were going to cover the civil war. I had already missed the first civil war class. I now was thinking about skipping the second civil war class today, so I could stay home and work on the room. I didn't think the professor – a man – took attendance; so I wouldn't lose much if I didn't go.
I continued working on the room, moving things around. I noticed a door and I asked my mother where it went to. As I opened up the door, she said it was the "man room." I actually pulled the door off, and when I looked inside, I saw an ugly unpainted closet. Also inside was a rickety stairs leading up. I didn't know exactly where the stairs led, but I thought it might be possible to tear out the stairs and the wall to the closet so the room could be enlarged. It would make the room much larger. But I could tell it would take quite a lot of time. I could also tell that my mother didn't want me to tear out the closet, because she also knew it would take a lot of work, and she didn't think I would finish it. However, I still thought it might be a good idea.
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