Nothing happened again

Wednesdays are just Wednesdays now.

Steady, sleeping, gardening again.

Nothing happened again. I am aware that is now the fourth month running I have written that, and I have decided it is the best sentence in this journal.

Reduced to a maintenance dose. Same day, same fridge, less of it.

The strange part is not having a project any more. I had not understood how much I was enjoying having one.

Two years. My only news is that there is no news, and I have come back specifically to say so, because nobody wrote this part down for me.

Bed, at a sensible hour for once.