Sunday

I fertilised all of my indoor plants, it being spring and all. Winter is over people. I've been meaning to do it for days, but have been too lazy, and too weak to pull my sorry arse away from online screen time. Its a sad indictment... on the world, really.

The wind returned as did the rain. Still, we managed an hour of walking with the dogs in the park snatching some sunshine. The park was busy, lots of people, all rushing out the door while the sun shined, I guess.

It was my brother's birthday, so I rang him and wished him a lovely day. We have one of our two phone calls per year. His birthday, and my birthday. 

We generally catch up in person at Xmas.

I got sick of myself and YouTube, so I read for the afternoon, breaking out my Kindle. I read A Thousand Miles From Care: A Hunt For A Brother's Killer. The death of Scott Johnson, the gay, American maths genius.

And then it is the end of the weekend and Monday looms large again. Reading is lovely, I forget how much when I don't do it and then I do it again.

And that's it, the weekend is done.