Emil is home with a cold this morning so I set off with Everett to catch the schoolbus. He complained, naturally. Walk? What's that? That's torture! It makes his legs and feet hurt! Why can't we drive?

We hadn't gotten far when we met up with a neighbour boy who was taking a shortcut, so we trundled along with him through someone's yard. Another boy joined us and when we got near the bus stop I stopped and let them go on their way.

I thought my heart was going to explode by the time I reached the top of the hill we'd just walked down. Holy shitoly! I guess I should walk that every day, it might do me some good.

So now I'm home, about to start my work day. Have called Mom, she's feeling fine and would get Dad to drive her over before he goes golfing, but she doesn't want to catch anything from Emil. He, on his part, is worried that he might catch her cancer. I have explained to him several times that this is not possible, but he is still concerned about it.

Our suite is the row of windows you see on the ground floor of the house. My desk is just inside the tall window on the far right.

And now, I must quit yapping and actually start to work.