Today I'm marginally better; no bronchospasm since Tuesday afternoon. I cried off Wednesday night choir practice -- that's the community choir -- and that was good for me and better for everyone else, as the cold effects (yes, it's a cold, not just allergies) came roaring in full force. Lotsa sneezing, coughing, snorting, all of it fairly disgusting. I'm not sure about church choir practice tonight; that depends on the wetness of the cold and the frequency of the cough.

What I really hate is the trembly twitchiness that comes partly from the virus and partly from the stimulants (bronchodilators) in the asthma medication. I still have stuff to do on ladders, and I don't feel safe on ladders right now. So what's a brother for? Andrew's coming over this afternoon to help me heave a wrapped and rolled-up rug on top of a two-span set of IKEA Sten shelving.

Ottawa is the home station of a regional grocery chain called Farm Boy that has excellent low-carb soup by the litre and the cheese department of the gods. In Stratford, the nearest Farm Boy was in Kitchener, 40 km down Highway 7/8 and accessible by one of the scariest on-off ramps in the region. Here, the nearest Farm Boy is ten minutes down Bank Street in a shopping plaza well away from road construction and concentrations of commuter traffic. That alone is almost worth the move.

The garage is now fully winter functional, with the curb ramps in place and a door-opener that can be activated from outside either from a keypad on the door frame or a remote control in the car. That means efficient conditions for the snow-removal guys, a minimum of ice-scraping by me, and the car stowed where mischievous or larcenous eyes won't easily find it.