The supplies and furniture in the craft room where being constantly moved about by some of the Alzheimers patients. Every evening I had an assistant who rearranged my paint and anything else I brought. She offered me various chairs and objects from the craft room to help out. I enjoyed her cheerful company and at the end of the painting session, collected all the things that I had brought before heading home. Once the postmaster at the wicket was finished, the door to the craft room no longer existed.