I'm glad to hear that the Thanksgiving madness is passing down south, with much churning of dishwashers and inventory of left-overs. We don't have a major eating holiday in November, so the kitchen project at our house is not disrupting our social life -- much.

A new character joined the construction drama this morning: Patrick the painter, who pronounced the existing decor "really ugly" and agreed to quote on the rest of the house once the kitchen project is finished and our bank balance has recovered somewhat. Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, Tony the carpenter is building a new door frame for the ground-floor loo, which thus will become usable again by close of play today. Sean the contractor says he will start installing cabinets on Monday, so today I must call the appliance dealers and tell them to deliver the new range, refrigerator and dishwasher next Friday.

I remember the excitement of Christmas when I was five and had convinced myself that my parents would buy me a pony. I remember the breathless anticipation in the week before the "formal", which is what we called the big dance when I was in high school back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. That's nothing to how I feel about our new kitchen appliances, the first such items I have ever chosen for myself, to meet our needs as cooks and householders, rather than accepting what was supplied by a landlord or housing developer, or was cheapest at Sears.

Whenever I leave the house these days, I seem to buy or otherwise acquire something before I come home again; I'm such a frequent flyer at Canadian Tire that the cashiers smile and wave. When all this tumult is over and the house is fully functional, I intend to launch a no-acquisitions regime. I wonder if I can get through Lent next year without bringing anything into the house that is not food or something required for cleaning or emergency maintenance. Interesting challenge ...