Signs of life

Following a crappy weekend during which I started to feel ill - the first signs of sickness since I became a hermit a year ago - there were at least a few bright spots.

Early morning visit and outdoors coffee with Mitch, who brought along croissants and pains au chocolat, and who was forced to sit on the front step and listen to my endless whines. At least he had the foresight to sit on his gloves. 

The other two Ottawackers came back from their walk in time for one of them to don football kit and wheedle front-garden goalkeeping. This was on the garlic patch... but the snow was sufficiently deep for no harm to come to either of my progeny.

Followed up that with a delayed Zoom game of Masterpiece with Mrs. Ottawacker's family in Kanata and Hamilton, in the midst of which I escaped (I am no fan of multi-person computer meets) and settled down to the latest instalment of God Sucks the Life Out of Your Soul by Making You Watch Liverpool Play. Surprisingly, He didn't - and instead of the episode entitled "Playing Well, Not Scoring, and Losing," which has been on continuous repeat since Christmas, we got the old favourite "Playing Well, Scoring a Couple, and Looking Like a Good Team" again.

Felt too ill for dinner, so served up last night's option (meatballs in tomato passata and pasta), read Ottawacker Jr. a chapter of Swallows and Amazons, and collapsed into a chair to sleep.