strains and stress of the seals about the nose, the seals sealing the crack between the hard plastic of the mask applying pressure to the perinasal areas of the face.
Still, breathing is easier with the mask and the attendant compressor,
the cat has not returned since yesterday morning, where it has gone to nobody knows nor can imagine. No, much can be imagined, nothing is known.
Son comes in to wake his father up, homework exercises are to be done, and coffee is to be made. The days breakfast drink has been prepared by the son and is burbling away. The mess from last nights cooking is still decorating the kitchen, it looks disastrous. Whilst the first bitter black drink of the day is on the way, tidy up the kitchen, fill the dishwasher, wipe the worktops. Things that should have been done last night, but there was that incredible attack of drowsiness, rendering the mess invisible, just sleep was all that was called for.
Now it is morning and the untidiness is an eyesore, apparent to the awakened eyes. Like the aftermath of a party, without the party and without the other excesses involved.
Maybe all of this is just a matinal bad humour.
neologistic nonsense, no no no.
son son, away from the machines, sun solaris nine the latest craze, and back to the homework, simple multiplication of fractions. Fractions that used to be every mechanics stock in trade in predecimal days, cause pain now that people think in points and commas, decimally decimating an instinctive system. The son is worried about the cat, the last sign of which are footprints in the snow heading over to the neighbours house. Small cat prints.
A second cup from a second pot, and simple help to simple sums.
Still, breathing is easier with the mask and the attendant compressor,
the cat has not returned since yesterday morning, where it has gone to nobody knows nor can imagine. No, much can be imagined, nothing is known.
Son comes in to wake his father up, homework exercises are to be done, and coffee is to be made. The days breakfast drink has been prepared by the son and is burbling away. The mess from last nights cooking is still decorating the kitchen, it looks disastrous. Whilst the first bitter black drink of the day is on the way, tidy up the kitchen, fill the dishwasher, wipe the worktops. Things that should have been done last night, but there was that incredible attack of drowsiness, rendering the mess invisible, just sleep was all that was called for.
Now it is morning and the untidiness is an eyesore, apparent to the awakened eyes. Like the aftermath of a party, without the party and without the other excesses involved.
Maybe all of this is just a matinal bad humour.
neologistic nonsense, no no no.
son son, away from the machines, sun solaris nine the latest craze, and back to the homework, simple multiplication of fractions. Fractions that used to be every mechanics stock in trade in predecimal days, cause pain now that people think in points and commas, decimally decimating an instinctive system. The son is worried about the cat, the last sign of which are footprints in the snow heading over to the neighbours house. Small cat prints.
A second cup from a second pot, and simple help to simple sums.
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