A night of poor sleep, this Saurday night leading to a Sunday morning. The tossing and turning has it's end as finally the cat jumps onto the piano keyboard and plays a catwalk there.
It does that to gain attention, and it succeeds. The piano lid is now closed, and the cat has been feed, that is, it has recieved the attention it so desired.
Lie down on the couch for a few minutes and then go back to bed, putting on the green brace on the way there. Thus the hand may stop hurting. It will be a while longer yet with this contrivance, the hand is swollen.
One hour later, at twenty two past seven, get up again and take the pen and the notebook to the sitting room. There are strange sounds coming from behind the closed door to the sons room, he must be awake.
He is awake, and has all of his computers running. A massive ancient laptop with an amber screen has been repaired, and he is playing some period game on it. A computer that must be about thirty five years old now, still giving pleasure. No Internet, no advanced protocols, nothing. Just a few matchstick men on a flickery amber screen simulating daily life.
The neighbours on the other side of the road are awake too, perhaps they have planned to go away today on a family outing, The idea of that is a pleasant one.
And then there is a tinkling noise in the sons room.
One of his friends is online, they exchange their good mornings, and continue at the point they had left of on the day before.
Both active at daybreak.
It does that to gain attention, and it succeeds. The piano lid is now closed, and the cat has been feed, that is, it has recieved the attention it so desired.
Lie down on the couch for a few minutes and then go back to bed, putting on the green brace on the way there. Thus the hand may stop hurting. It will be a while longer yet with this contrivance, the hand is swollen.
One hour later, at twenty two past seven, get up again and take the pen and the notebook to the sitting room. There are strange sounds coming from behind the closed door to the sons room, he must be awake.
He is awake, and has all of his computers running. A massive ancient laptop with an amber screen has been repaired, and he is playing some period game on it. A computer that must be about thirty five years old now, still giving pleasure. No Internet, no advanced protocols, nothing. Just a few matchstick men on a flickery amber screen simulating daily life.
The neighbours on the other side of the road are awake too, perhaps they have planned to go away today on a family outing, The idea of that is a pleasant one.
And then there is a tinkling noise in the sons room.
One of his friends is online, they exchange their good mornings, and continue at the point they had left of on the day before.
Both active at daybreak.
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