Over the weekend (what's a weekend these days?), I sorted the contents of he Glory Hole and extracted a whole whack of cooking equipment I can't see myself ever using again.

Edmund's collection of silicone doohickeys for poaching eggs, a clay-baker big enough for a small turkey, two (Count 'em! -- Two!) fish kettles, two baguette molds, and smaller rubble galore ... At present, I have no idea what to do with it all, and the accumulation covers the top of a six-foot table.

I guess it can stay there for a while -- in fact, it has to, as the provincial lockdown has no forecast end date yet.

Meanwhile, it's snowing again. Yesterday, for the first time since we moved here, the scheduled pick-up of stuff for recycling did not happen, and blue boxes are sitting forlornly in snowbanks along the street. I will improve the shining hour with a load of laundry.

What larks, eh?