Call put in to mum and dad finds they’re not in such a bad shape as last night’s conversation with the old man had me worried they’d be. Or, well, got him at the other end of the line so it’s kinda hard to tell. Told of how mum’s arm getting better, so maybe just a mild attack? He didn’t sound too good himself. I wonder how much further he’ll go in this life. Seventy? The habits have not been the best, and he’s generally taken poor care of himself. I don’t wanna think about how many chemicals and toxins he’s handled sans protection over the years, especially the earlier ones, the ones which really count. A grim thought, but I doubt he’ll live to see Kirstine get past fifteen, and that’s if he’s lucky. Mum, ah, who can tell. She’s as unpredictable as in that book, “Sons and mothers”. Thackery, I think. Not entirely sure. ~~~ Nothing, absolute nothing to do at work. Am amusing myself with brief entries in the book about the film, as well as some computerstuff which might come in handy in some distant future. It’s really a very easy time, I almost don’t know what to do with myself. The book needs images, a lot of them. Hopefully Tatiana, that pretty countenance, will be by tomorrow with a DVD for me. ~~~ Quiet evening. Did some more cleaning out in the basement. Tomorrow Thursday. Will drive all that excess wood and plaster out to the recycling station, be good on nature and be rid of it all, get some space back in the garage. Am hoping for a quiet day.