Don't know if it's collagen or coincidence but joints have been much less ouchy these last days in spite of cold and rain and snow. Today is the exception, of course.
Have cleared shelves of a dozen ancient Andre Nortons. I have no idea why I kept them in them first place. (Can't remember a thing about the Witch World, but after 40 years that's hardly surprising.) Marie Kondo works a fair treat for this. My soul sank within me at the thought of rereading them, and anyway the print was too tiny to do it, so as they sparked the opposite of joy, out they went. To the boulevard, and if no one wants them, into tne recycle on Tnursday.