Five more sections of folding bookcase are sitting on the front porch even as I type. In return for lunch at the pub (my offer; he calls it bait), Brother Andrew has kindly agreed to come over to help unbox and install them. We will then deploy the too-tall IKEA Billy bookcases in the garage so I can photograph them for listing on Kijiji and FB Marketplace. If my cunning plans continue to work out, I will be able to park the car in the garage by Hallowe'en.

Vandalism is no longer an important feature of Hallowe'en around here, at least not in the city, but I still don't want the car out there and vulnerable when people with lowered inhibitions might be inclined to hell around in the street.

I now also have a two-drawer lateral filing cabinet that is excess to requirements. I literally can't find anywhere to stash it but the guest room closet, so I packed the active files (not much, actually) and their hanging folders into plastic boxes currently stacked in the study closet. When he has a gap in his schedule, contractor Marc Durocher has agreed to install some sturdy shelves in said closet, and thus solve my study files problem.

I also shredded a tall stack of papers dealing with the sale of the Old St. Patrick Street house, renovations in Stratford, the origins of our tax-free savings accounts (now very different), and the membership of the Stratford Concert Choir. That felt good.

Speaking of completed projects, Tosh sent in his bill the other day with a note to say how much he likes me. I paid it promptly (as one does) with gratitude for his willingness -- indeed, eagerness -- to take on jobs such as garbage removal that were never part of the contract. I guess he really does like me.

Having paid October's credit card bill, I calculated the complete cost of the hardwood flooring project: Cdn$16,636.15. Not counting coordination services by Jeff the realtor and SIL No. 1, and heaving and hauling by everybody. It's a good thing the buyers in Stratford threw so much cash at me; between the move, the paint and the hardwood, a fair amount of it is gone.

Verily, verily, my Dad said unto me: A house is a hole in the ground into which you shovel money.