Box-making, like book-making, is very precise; you want to measure to sixteenths of an inch, ideally. But where could the ruler be? Not in any of the obvious places, so it was probably in the massive pile o' crap at the end of the hall, that I've been meaning to wade in and organize for, oh, the last eight months, approximately -- since we got back from California and dumped a ton of stuff there.
Two hours later, no ruler, sadly, but the hall is finally clear, and I am finally at peace. There is little that soothes the soul the way organizing does. The hall looks beautiful, and the trip hazards are gone; I think I've even managed to get all the choking/poisoning hazards off the floor, so Kavi can now safely run past that corner in her quest to reach the roof without my fearing for her life. Yes, all is now right with the world...
Of course, now the hall closet is calling out to me.