Didn't you just do that?

Why, yes, I DID just rearrange.

Thank you for noticing.
 I like to shake it up now and then.

What? No, I can stop re-arranging anytime I want.

Rosie, don't look at me that way. Quit looking at me.

I can't help myself. I'm a compulsive re-arranger.

This week, I moved the counters. All by myself. When I wake up motivated to rearrange the heavy stuff, I can't wait for someone with testosterone to wander by.

So here's the new counter layout, viewed from the front doors:

Hmmm...

does that look messy or interesting? How about interestingly messy?

Check out the pile of Stuff behind the counter: I'm sorry to admit that IS a mess. Boxes to be unpacked, things I abandoned on the floor when I answered the phone and forgot to come back, little wheels off things and a teetering 412-pound stack of brochures. It's an ever-changing assortment that's ever-present, much to my ever-lasting shame. I've come to accept that The Banging of the Shins on Stuff back there is just an occupational hazard:

Oh, well.  Come on in and climb over. 

I've moved forty zillion napkins and paper plates and greeting cards.

The baby gifts have flip-flopped with the kitchen goods, the candles and the lotions have traded places with the invitations, and I can't recall where I put the fuzzy pink Easter ducks but it will come to me in the middle of the night.

So come see. Winter's moved out, Spring's moved in, and I've moved every single thing in the shop.

  I even dusted!

But better make it snappy -- I might move the counters again next week if my feet quit hurting.