One of the best things about Genesee last weekend was a roof. After driving through torrential downpours on Friday, we were grateful for a house to sleep in, instead of a tent. I’ve never woken up to find my hip planted in a drainage channel (Saratoga was stormy) but Friday night would have provided ample opportunity for somnolent soakings.

The 1836 Foster-Tufts House was our just-right billet, with a bed for each of us.

So we were set, right? Each of us had bedding (many thanks to Mr JS for the loan of a linen sheet: I still regret the vintage sheet I did not buy) and a real bed, a pretty plush situation, really. The only tricky part was getting into bed, and then adjusting yourself once you were on the mattress. It’s not that the bedding was going to rise up and cast us out. It’s not that the accommodations were exceptionally uncomfortable to modern, bed-spring accustomed sleepers.

It was the noise. The bed sacks were filled with packing peanuts and other inorganic materials that crunched and cracked and popped and creaked and grumbled with an and tiny movement. There was a solution, though. There’s always a solution.

Synchronized spinning. Without thinking about it too hard, though with deference and consideration for fellow occupants, we quickly learned to turn simultaneously. As soon as one of us cracked the wall of sound, the other two would shift. Problem solved.