I haven't posted here in a while, not because I don't love you all but because I'm not decluttering much any more. I have shed the stuff that really must go, and the clag that remains is dear to Himself, who would weep salt tears and raise holy Hell if I re-homed his collection of G.H. Henty novels.

I return to this thread today to report that the 2018 income taxes are paid, and Himself just headed downtown to the bank to cough up to Revenue Canada the Ontario Harmonized Sales Tax he collected in 2018. In consequence, all the money currently in our bank accounts belongs to us -- except, of course, for the HST owing on 2019 billings, and the 20 percent of untaxed net income the sensible person sets aside against next year's impositions.

In a way, I rather enjoy tax season. By government fiat, I am compelled to ransack the filing cabinet and sort out our obligations, and then carry through and pay what we owe. When we finish, we feel washed throughly, as the Reverend Dr. Isaac Watts would put it, and ready to face the profligacies of summer.

To celebrate, we're having the large, rickety deck removed from our back yard and replaced with a paved patio, the better to see what's going on with the foundation on that side of the house. God alone knows what's under that deck; not only a warren of rabbits, whose tracks we see all winter, but also random hosepipes and wiring for long-forgotten lighting arrangements. The deck also covers two basement windows, each lacking a proper window-well so it's a good thing we are on high ground here. The landscaping contractor is coming tomorrow with his buddy the carpenter to figure out a concept of operations.

Meanwhile, despite the really weird weather (it snowed yesterday in Perth County), I have plans to get the barbecue back into commission this weekend. I just hope I don't have to shake ice off the cover first.