Book club disagreed about whether a character was lying or simply avoiding a conversation. I argued for lying and had three passages ready; afterwards I realised I'd remembered every omission and almost none of the scenes where she was straightforward. That doesn't make my reading wrong, but it does make it selective. I went back to one chapter without highlighting anything, trying to see what was there before building a case. I still dislike her. It's a novel, so disliking her is allowed to be the entire outcome. Not every evening needs to end with a finding that improves my capacity for trust.

My partner cancelled dinner because of a headache, and I felt disappointed before I felt suspicious, which is worth recording accurately. The suspicion arrived anyway: was it really a headache, had I been too much on our last date, was there a gentler explanation I wasn't being given? I sent a kind reply and genuinely meant it. I also wanted someone to notice that I'd been looking forward to the evening. Those aren't incompatible, but I resent how quickly wanting company becomes a private investigation in my head. I made the dinner I'd planned, minus the second portion. It was good, and I was still disappointed.

Spent an hour repotting the plant on my supposedly non-practical shelf, which has apparently become a plant-care station. I was sitting sideways on the kitchen floor and didn't notice the pressure in my hip until I tried to stand. Once upright I felt warm, a little shaky with hunger, and much less inclined to interpret every sensation as a mood. There was soil caught in the dry skin on two fingers, so washing took longer than expected. Made lunch, sat properly, watched the plant lean towards the window. My jaw wasn't clenched for once. I don't need that to signify anything beyond having had my hands occupied elsewhere.