My son asked if I'd watch a game with him, not drive him somewhere or look at something broken. I said sure and then spent too long asking what time and whether he needed food. He said we could figure it out. That usually irritates me, but this time I was glad he assumed I'd be there. During the game he talked more than he normally does in the truck. Nothing serious, mostly complaints about the referee. I liked hearing him without trying to get information out of him. After he left, the house seemed quieter than before. I cleaned up two plates and left the television on longer than I needed to.

Spent the morning on a ground mount, which ought to feel easier than a roof until you count how often you crouch and stand. Knees were stiff getting out of the truck afterward. No sharp pain, just that first few steps where I look older than I feel. At home I walked the dog along the fence and loosened up. He stopped at every post, so there wasn't much chance of hurrying. The sun was off my face for once and I could feel the cool air through the back of my shirt. By the time we returned I was hungry and moving normally. Sat on the porch to take off my boots and stayed there a while with my socks half off.

I'm working on an old mower with no deadline, which apparently doesn't stop me wanting to find the fault immediately. It starts, runs a short while, stops. I'd already decided what was wrong before checking the simple things, because it sounded like a machine I fixed years ago. The parts didn't support that guess. So now I've got a short list and I'm going through it instead of buying anything. Funny how memory can save time or waste it with equal confidence. Dad rang and offered his diagnosis before I finished describing it. I told him what I'd checked. We disagree, so he'll probably turn up tomorrow to watch it stop.