Snowing again in Ottawa, and our street (a main bus route) looks like a one-lane tunnel. Cars parked on the street are deeply nested in snowbanks thrown up by the city plows. Our neighbour, who has three cars and a garage full of junk, is facing about an hour's worth of heavy labour before he even leaves for work. We are living through our 19th winter next door to that family, and they seem never to have considered clearing that garage so they can actually park in it.

I am now looking critically at the china cabinet with intent to remove from it every article that I know I have never used, and am morally certain that Himself is unlikely ever to use again, if he ever has. Unfortunately, Himself has strong sentimental attachments to such items as a coffee mug from the 2004 Nijmegen Marches, a beer stein from the 50th anniversary of the formation of the Grey and Simcoe Foresters, and a badly designed teapot from the Six Nations Pottery. Don't get me started on the great variety of travel mugs and coffee-making technology, every single item of apparently crucial importance. I'm getting that Gotta Have A Garage Sale feeling.

Acme, how wonderful that your daughter landed a decent job, and it's near you. Texas seems like a place where a long commute is so normal as to be part of the price of employment, along with an expensive post-secondary qualification and a "professional" wardrobe.