Rained all night and the snow is gone and I bicycled to work and wore my shoes to bicycle home, and my knees do not hurt. This is either the effect of exercise, or of wearing my old orthotics in my shoes, or of wearing an off-the-peg foam orthotic in my left boot, or of my doctor being right that 1000 units of Tylenol is indeed an effective pain-killer. Can't believe it's more effective than tylenol and codeine, but evidence suggests otherwise.
And I have tomorrow off (in theory: sudden plague may change all that) and lovely physio in the morning.
Nothing since Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.
Cotterill's second Thailand-set mystery. Much slower reads than Dr Siri, which I could polish off in a day. Also much darker, in spite of the spunky narrator. I like Jimm's super-powered older sister who can find anything on the internet, but I can kind of see why the publishers discontinued the series. However, slow read is why I've finished nothing else.
Wang Wei, Kalevala, Chia Tao- slowly slowly.
I think the events south of us, and the weather, and the end of Markham St Village have given me a kind of emotional biliousness. Reading seems futile. But since I don't really want to read anything, I might plough through The Book of Life just so I can send the whole trilogy to the wee free library across the street.