Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the penitential season of Lent. Like observant Roman Catholics and Orthodox believers, Anglicans like me typically take up some form of self-discipline in Lent, most often giving up a small pleasure that they are a bit ashamed of. Edmund always gave up booze and dessert in Lent, with varying degrees of success, and one year even tried to give up meat. That was difficult, but not improving — we just pigged out on cheese.

Since dietary restriction has become a daily routine for me, I have been thinking about doing Lent differently this year, with a discipline around other healthy routines. Specifically exercise, since the days are lengthening and the deep cold of mid-winter is almost over, but also routine housekeeping.

I was more than a little embarrassed by the amount of cat hair that came out of the flannel duvet cover in this week’s wash, especially when I realized that I last changed it on Christmas Eve. Ooops. (Sheets and pillow case are easy; duvet cover not so much.) Then I swept the ground floor, producing a prodigious heap of shreddies from the cats’ cardboard scratcher as well as billows of cat hair. The laminate floor on the basement stairs and in the bunker needs a wash, due not only to feline fallout but also my habit of eating in front of the TV. (Note to file: Do not eat soup while ensconced on the sofa. Sooner or later, something messy will happen.)

Whenever I consider hiring cleaners, the idea dies on the reef of realizing that I’m still perfectly capable of doing the work myself. And eventually I do, usually when I have invited The Brothers and SsIL to dinner. My house is not a high-maintenance space; I would just rather be reading.

Yesterday, to make Marc the contractor happy, I visited the showroom of the cabinet company that doesn’t do wood. Nothing but wood-effect MDF (medium-density fibreboard) as far as the eye could see, plus quartzite work surfaces — i.e., one hundred percent fake. It all looked like the break room in a government office. This afternoon, I’m off to visit Waseem’s shop to see what he makes. If I spot a nice piece of tiger maple, I’ll be convinced.