I’ve mentioned before that until you have industrialization or some equivalent that makes the manufacture of things easier, people will own a lot less stuff, furniture included. But what does that look like in practice? What is a person’s house likely to include and exclude?

Probably the first thing to be invented was the chest or box, and not just because it’s useful for keeping your belongings from rolling around loose on the floor. It gives them (some) protection from vermin, and also — once locks are invented, about six thousand years ago — protection from thieves. Chests are useful for organization, for transport, for a bunch of different purposes.

Including subbing in for other pieces of furniture! I’m sure we’ve all experienced the phenomenon of every available flat surface ending up with stuff on it; well, boxes have a long history of doubling as tables, perhaps with a set of boards laid across the top to expand the surface and give somewhere for your knees to go, which can be removed when the table isn’t in use. Smaller boxes become stools to sit on, with or without cushions for padding. Long chests, topped with a mattress, have served as beds — which probably adds to the security if your valuables are inside. It’ll be one heck of a skilled thief who can get in there without waking you up.

Sleeping atop a chest is also good for getting you off the floor, which means you’re away from cold drafts and less likely (though not guaranteed) to have a mouse or a beetle run across your face. But we’ve already covered beds, back in Year Four, so I won’t repeat all that here. Instead let’s go back to what’s early and common: the shelf.

This can either be a freestanding structure or something fixed to the wall, and it has the obvious merit of expanding your storage options vertically, making better use of the space. But while people nowadays tend to use shelves in the public parts of our houses for storing things like books, photos, and pretty knick-knacks, in earlier times they’ll be much more like a modern pantry or garage, holding utility items. And, again, holding them away from vermin, though enterprising critters will still find a way. Meanwhile, purpose-built tables (as opposed to repurposed chests) offer storage room beneath, again making better use of what would otherwise be wasted space.

(By the way, if you want to see “making better use of the space” really take off in a modern context, look at tiny houses or watch a Japanese home remodeling show. When you’re operating in close quarters, ingenuity around where to put shelves, cabinets, closets, and other storage rules the day. I have to imagine the same would be true of some futuristic person living in an orbital habitat or other confined place.)

Combine shelves with chests, and you get cabinets. As anybody with a chest-style freezer knows, a top-opening box can be a nightmare for internal organization; one that opens on the side and has subdivisions within is vastly more useful. Drawers seem to be a much later development, though, which makes sense when you think about the additional material required and the woodworking challenge of getting the drawer to slide in and out anything like smoothly.

What about chairs? These are shaped by both history and culture. They exist going back for thousands of years, especially when you include stools (folding or rigid) alongside chairs with backs. But they’ve often been elite or special-use items, with most people — even rich people! — sitting on floor cushions; Elizabeth I’s ladies-in-waiting took their meals in chairs at tables, but sat on the floor the rest of the time. There’s a practical reason for this: when most rooms are heated by wood fires in a hearth, being on the floor puts you below the worst of of the smoke. As chimneys improve, though, smoke reduces, and chairs become more appealing places to be.

But bring your cushion with you. I haven’t been able to find out when attached upholstery was first developed; quite possibly we don’t know, given how poorly materials like that would survive archaeologically. Regardless of timing, it’s definitely only for the wealthy, and not just because of the added expense: think about the difficulty of keeping it clean and vermin-free. A ruined cushion can easily be thrown away, but ruined upholstery has to be torn off and replaced, or a new chair acquired.

Then there’s the category of furniture that goes under many names: couch, sofa, settee, and more. These have come and gone, and they blur into other categories as well (a “couch” originally meant a bed). Once again, I think these more often had removable mattresses and cushions rather than the installed upholstery we’re used to. The Greeks, Etruscans, and Romans dined on such things, chaise longue-type couches where they could recline while they ate, rather than sitting upright. After that went out of fashion in Europe (apparently during the medieval period!), the sofa, to use its Turkish-derived name, came to be associated with the Middle East, and only filtered back into Europe later.

Furniture, of course, comes in many more kinds than this. We have specialized versions of the items I’ve already mentioned, like end tables and footstools and étagères and curio cabinets and trundle beds and recliners and . . . you get the point. We also have pieces of furniture built for specific purposes not needed in most of the past, like the filing cabinet in my office. But that all comes later, with wealth and especially with the cheaper production afforded by industrialization. (Though it’s not purely a one-way street: we no longer have things like free-standing braziers to help heat our rooms.)

That doesn’t mean, however, that the future is going to be even more furniture-crammed. Fashion plays a role here; one generation will fill their houses full of stuff, and then the next will rebel against all that clutter and strip down toward a more minimalist look. The shift to digital technology and other modes of entertainment has greatly reduced the need for bookshelves in some households, or filing cabinets, or other things meant to wrangle paper in its various forms. If we improve both 3D printing and the recycling of its materials, then we might be able to create furniture when it’s needed, then get rid of it as soon as the use has passed.

The key point is that our current state of furnishing is neither universal nor inevitable. And changing up what’s in the room may change how the characters behave there!