An engineer used one of my notebook corrections in a meeting and called it something the team had discovered. I made a joke about the map being old enough to vote and let it go at the table, but it bothered me all the way home. It's not that I need a ceremony every time I remember a valve. I would like my work to have my name attached when it gets repeated in a room I'm sitting in. My wife asked why I was quiet and I nearly told her traffic was lousy. Told her the real reason instead. She didn't think it was petty. That helped, though now I can't pretend nobody knows I care about it.

I've been putting the valve corrections into a cleaner record and found two notes that only make sense if you're me. One says behind the old fence, which would be useful if the fence still existed. I know exactly where I meant, but knowing isn't the same as leaving somebody else an instruction they can use. Went back through the photos and added the fixed landmarks and dates, then marked the doubtful bits for checking. It's slow work and less satisfying than proving the printed map wrong on a job. Still, if I want this notebook taken seriously as a city record, it can't remain a collection of clues to my own memory.

Took the dog along the river after work and let him set the pace for once. Usually I call it a walk and spend half of it trying to get somewhere, which is pretty pointless when the destination is the same kitchen we left. My back was stiff getting out of the truck, then settled as I moved. Stopped on a bench while the dog examined something important in the grass and noticed I wasn't bracing my shoulders the way I had been all afternoon. Didn't cover much distance. Got home feeling better anyway, and the dog went straight to sleep like he'd completed a major municipal contract. I had supper, then did much the same on the couch.