The smell of wood-smoke in the cold air.
An untidy person desperate to be tidy, I believe I have become tidy, if only because otherwise I would forget where I have put things. The satisfaction of packing things away in a chest, and then making a list of what is in the chest, is the triumph of the tidy side of me over the untidy side.
I find a book, which I have been looking for since yesterday. It is where it should have been on the shelf, and I was looking in all the places where it ought not to have been.