A mate said her parents were helping with the deposit and I managed a perfectly normal congratulations before going quiet on the way home. I'm happy for her. I'm also jealous in a very specific, spreadsheet-shaped way, and neither feeling cancels the other. QS asked what was wrong and I said nothing, then immediately gave him the whole calculation of how much sooner we'd be buying if somebody did the same for us. He listened without trying to make our numbers better. That helped, though I was still a bit average about it at dinner. She sent a photo of the place later. The windows are gorgeous. I told her that and meant it as well.

Walked past a building I'd known before the quakes and tried to remember the old shopfront without mentally filling it in from photos. Couldn't do it cleanly. I can remember waiting there with Mum, the feeling of the pavement under my shoes, but the glass I picture keeps changing. It's odd knowing the repaired windows better than the ones I grew up with. At work I like an opening I can measure. With memory there's no useful second reading to take, you just keep getting your latest version back. I was going to ask Mum, then got distracted by something in the new window. I'll probably remember to ask while I'm somewhere completely different.

Had the good bit of sun in the bay window and sat there with bare feet on the cushion until the tea went lukewarm. After a week in boots it's surprisingly nice to move your toes without meeting steel at the end. My partner opened a window in the next room and a draught found exactly one ankle, so I moved everything three inches and carried on doing absolutely nothing. No tramping achievement, no garden dug, just warm shoulders and somewhere comfortable to put my weight. Eventually I needed food and had to get up. There's a patch on that cushion where I keep sitting, and I should probably rotate it, but that would involve leaving the best position to perform maintenance on it.