The other night, while the man of the house was out, a war was fought in my living room.
Chariots and cavalry and foot-soldiers poured out of the bookshelves.
The beleagured ran for shelter in the fuse-box.
Sentries stood guard, raiding parties went forth across the dinner table, many were slain...
-- and then a key turned in the latch and all the soldiers and civilians, dead or alive, scuttled under the bookshelf.
"Did anything interesting happen while I was out?" asked the man of the house, looking around the tidy living room.
"No," we said.
I had forgotten how vivid is the study of Nach.