Saturday saw the departure of four large bags and five boxes of stuff we don't use and won't miss, picked up by the Canadian Diabetes Association "clothes line" donation program. In 10 days, when we have another garbage pickup, a similar quantity of junk will go to the kerb.

It's hard to know what to do with warped cookie sheets, rusty pans and other items of wounded cookware. The child of a Depression survivor living deep in my heart can't bear to part with things that just might, possibly, have one more task in them, but my practical grownup side yells "No! No! No!" and sends me running for the bin-liners. Eventually, I slam it all on the sidewalk and avert my eyes until the garbage men have done the business, and thus I preserve a little breathing space in the basement.