At home I was folding laundry when my wife said my hands still smelled of detergent from school. I could not smell it until I brought the towel close to my face. The skin beside my thumb felt tight, not cracked yet, but rough enough to catch on a thin shirt. Used the plain lotion and sat with my fingers open so it could dry, which made my son ask if I was waiting for nail polish. Very funny. My forearms were tired also, from wringing the mop after the corridor spill. Once I stopped gripping anything I noticed it less. Finished the shirts slowly, then left the heavier sheets for the two of us to fold together.

The younger utility worker opened the school gate before I arrived and greeted the children in his own way, much louder than me. They answered loudly also. I was pleased he remembered the time, but when a teacher went straight to him about a classroom key I felt something unpleasant for a moment. He knew where it was, because I had shown him. That should be good news. I did not interrupt, just checked the visitor log beside them. Later he asked me to confirm the room number and I answered too quickly, almost happily. Ay, I complain that everybody needs me, then this is my reaction when one morning they manage without asking.

My daughter's return trip from college may be later tomorrow, and I am trying to decide what information I actually need before I ask her again. She already sent the place and the people going. The time is the part nobody knows, because their group work may finish early or late. If I write three questions she will answer only the last one, then I will send the others again. Better to ask her to message when they leave, but I keep thinking about her phone battery. We have a spare power bank in the labelled box. I can offer that without another whole discussion, although she will probably say she has her charger already.