My daughter wore my old market sweatshirt to meet her friends. I asked whether hers was in the wash and she said she just liked this one. The sleeves nearly covered her hands. Pleased me more than it should have, considering I've been complaining about that thing disappearing for a week. Told her not to lose it, then spent the next ten minutes hunting for the hood string she'd pulled out. She asked if I wanted it back. No, I wanted her to understand it was a perfectly good sweatshirt and not some rag. She said that's why she was wearing it. Girl has an answer for everything, apparently mine included.

Trying to decide where to put a bench by the lots because people keep sitting on my empty crates, which stop being empty when I need them. Got a spot in mind, then remembered the shade moves and it'll be full sun right when somebody wants to sit. Move it nearer the fence and now it's in the way of the hose. My son said just move the bench when you need to. I told him I'm not adding bench transport to the day's work. He looked at the wheeled garden cart. Fine. I see the point. Still want it somewhere that doesn't turn into a gathering place while I'm trying to load the truck.

Thursday wanted to walk after dinner and I told him I'd already done enough walking for two people. Went anyway. Different doing it without a bucket hanging off one arm, though I kept looking down like there ought to be something to pick up. My knees were stiff for the first block, then less so, and my stomach was full instead of making announcements. We stopped to look at a porch somebody had painted bright purple. I stood there with both hands in my pockets. Can't remember the last time I had two empty pockets and nothing urgent to put in them. Still made him take the short way back.