"Now if I can just keep track of the day of the week."

Oh, yes. I'm ashamed to admit that I check the phone or the computer to remind me, and then I forget again, especially in the grey space between Tuesday and Friday. After Garbage Day has passed, my only firm guide is the amount of effort I have to put into the New York Times crossword puzzle.

BIL and SIL are still in a welter of paper and boxes, with days if not weeks of sorting and shifting ahead of them. Their new house is much bigger than the little rowhouse they left behind in Toronto, and was rather ruthlessly renovated about ten years ago to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. It has two large bathrooms that, oddly, have no doors; oddest of all is the man-cave attic, with a massive Jacuzzi whirlpool tub right spung in the middle of the space. Whoever installed that would have needed a building permit and an engineer's report, followed by the agony of hanging double joists to take the weight -- and why? Likewise, the largest bedroom has a huge en-suite bathroom with no enclosure to block the view even of the toilet.

However, it's their house. I just thank my lucky stars that it wasn't the only house in our price range when we hit town three years ago.

Speaking of houses, ours is as dusty as the Sahara right now, and it can damn well stay that way for a couple more days; I have zero interest in housework right now. I will probably get over that soon, as the weather is hot and muggy enough to make any expedition unpleasant. Of course, there's nowhere fun to go.

Himself chivvied me out yesterday morning for breakfast downtown, our favourite after-church spot having reopened for take-out service. It was okay, but frankly I would rather have eaten at home; perching at a picnic table in the market square to eat out of compostable boxes is just as unlike restaurant dining as it sounds. Plus, no church, although the bells were ringing. The Anglican Church of Canada has hoisted in that group singing is actually one of the most dangerous things to do when COVID-19 is around, so ... no church. And when church is finally back, it will be said Matins and Evening Prayer. No singing, no eucharist. Bleah.

I have put on ten completely unwanted pounds over the last six months, so I have to pay much closer attention to what I eat and when. Since recovering from my last bout of diverticulitis, I have been eating only small meals a day, fasting from eight o'clock in the evening to noon the next day, and that is beginning to turn the tide. Trotting up and down stairs and around town is about the only exercise I get since the gyms are still closed, but today it's just too damned hot.