Reagan’s room is clear except for a dresser, the bed, and of course, the dollhouse. Here it is from the threshold:
I will probably move this dresser,
complete with Jenny’s labeling victory, into the hall tomorrow, but it would block passage needlessly if moved today.
The dollhouse, while structurally intact,
appears as though it was struck by a hurricane, with everything blow-downable blown down.
The dollhouse is the Maginot Line in my Fall Gelb. The French High Command believed that the famed line of fortifications was impenetrable and that any direct attack against it would fail. The German High Command agreed with that assumption, but while the French concluded that an attack would therefore never be made, the Germans concluded more sensibly that the inevitable attack would simply have to fall somewhere else. Like Guderian and his Panzer Corps, I will simply have to go around the dollhouse. I don’t care if it ends up exactly where it is so long as I can get the carpet out from under it and a new floor securely in place. Germany had the Ardennes; I have some felt pads to go underneath the furniture. I expect just as decisive a victory.
Mr. Sensitive 