The last rugs came back from the cleaners on Saturday, and the house is as squared away as I can make it at present. A large chest of drawers is still in rehab, a new underpad for the sitting room carpet is still in the mail, and the guest room needs curtains; time will fix the first two, and it will be months before I can have visitors anyway. Also, the guest room even more desperately needs a paint job -- it still has its original decor of putty grey and briefcase brown walls, all pocked with nail holes.

Much to my surprise, I came down with a mad urge to cook yesterday. I emptied the veg drawer from which a cauliflower and most of a head of celery had been radiating guilt, and made a batch of chicken stock in the Instant Pot. Today, I will roast the cauliflower and turn it into soup. I must go out for cat food, so I might as well also hunt and gather the ingredients of a batch of fruitcake: one each for The Brother-In-Law, my old college buddy in Toronto, and Elder Brother in Ottawa. Fortunately, fruitcake travels well by mail.

My next challenge is figuring out how to send bottled cherry liqueur to The Brothers in Ottawa. Wrapped in bubble-pack and stuffed among styrofoam peanuts in a large box? Actually, that just might work.