Yes, Stilly, I still need Marco, but for a much smaller job — the eggplant-purple bathroom, which has nasty holes in the drywall as well as the, um, purple. Two boxes and a bag of clothes, shoes and household linen are sat on the cedar chest waiting for the next run to Goodwill, which will be today or tomorrow. The collection of bakeware on the basement worktable has been joined by a whole whack of cutting boards and sheet pans of varying sizes, all ready for me to find some larger boxes so they, too, can leave the building.

As winter wanes, I will attack the garage, where I must have at least four folding chairs I will never use again as well as accumulated car stuff and garden tools. If my house-hunt goes according to plan, my next abode will be a condo where I don’t have to till the soil if I don’t want to. As I nurse my strained-yet-again lower back, I so don’t want to.

Today, I have a date with a plastic surgeon about the bobo on my face, which is still larger than it was when I last mentioned it. I can’t believe my luck — Stratford has a plastic surgery practice! And still no walk-in clinic for people who don’t have a family doctor. Hmmm. Priorities, people!