Yesterday I did a lot of cleaning and tidying. I tidied my living room in preparation for people to come round and watch B5, at the end of which the room was almost unrecognisable (I haven't had more than one guest at a time in quite some months). I did huge amounts of laundry, and I dealt with some software-maintenance backlog and actually cleaned out my inbox. (It's always scary to see an empty inbox; some Bayesian subsystem in my mind tends to decide it's more likely that my mail client has gone mad and deleted all my mail than that I've actually managed to keep my inbox tidy!)

Also I ate the last portion of the stew I cooked at the start of last week, which had the feeling of more tidying-up because this particular stew came out so awful that I very nearly threw it all away as soon as I'd cooked it, but couldn't quite bring myself to waste all that food. I've been suffering through it for the whole week, so it felt very good to finish getting rid of it; another chore done, another annoyance cleared away.

By the time I'd done all that, and shown some B5 to people for the first time in over a year, and inflicted my homegrown PS2 games on lnr and Mike for an hour or so afterwards, I decided it had been a sufficiently full day that what I really needed to do was sit at home and have an evening to myself rather than go out to any parties. It always feels slightly odd to do that on a Saturday, the traditional party night of the week, but I get sufficiently few evenings to myself at the moment that just occasionally it does seem to be the most sensible day for one. Still feels odd though.

This morning I've just noticed an odd wording on the back of a tin of sardines: ‘Our sardines have been hand packed using fresh Portuguese sardines.’ Huh? Using? Did they get the sardines to pack one another, or use one sardine as a shovel with which to bung others around the place? What a strange piece of English.