Mum sent a photo of Dad wearing my old university hoodie to wash the car. I replied that it was meant to be kept clean, and he sent back a picture of one sleeve covered in something. Found that funnier than it really was. Kept opening the messages between lectures, then rang home on the walk back even though it wasn't Sunday. Nothing much happening there, apparently. I told them about the house sink being blocked again and Dad gave instructions I already knew. Didn't say so. It was quite good having someone talk me through an ordinary thing without needing anything submitted at the end.

Played football after a shelf shift and the first ten minutes were mostly finding out which bit of my right ankle hadn't joined in yet. It loosened up once I'd warmed up properly. Could run without thinking about it after that, though my calves were heavy on the stairs home. Sat on the bed to remove a sock and somehow stayed there for twenty minutes looking at my phone, one sock off, one on. Didn't feel particularly tired until I stopped. Housemate knocked to ask about dinner and I realised I was properly hungry. Had enough chilli for two portions. Both portions turned out to be for me.

Our cleaning rota says kitchen on Thursday, which turns out to mean four different things depending on whose Thursday it is. I'm tempted to write exactly what counts, but then I'm the bloke who has written a specification for wiping a hob. We could just do it together for twenty minutes. Getting four people in the same room may be harder than actually cleaning it, and one of us will immediately remember somewhere to be. I don't want another house meeting about a sponge. Might ask while we're already eating. There will be physical evidence right beside us, so no need to prepare slides.