nine
blue sky outside the window, no grey depressing vista of a rain-swept courtyard, on the contrary.
It is bright and cheerful.
Awaken to this after a night of disturbed sleep, put away the mask. This is it, this is Sunday. All is ready now for Monday, with the occurrences of Friday still in the mind.
The lights are all on, things are scattered about.
Son has been active again. Electronics, where would we be without them?
The cat is active, of course. She wants attention, she wants to play. She jumps onto a table and throws down a plastic watch.
The son commences to bake breakfast rolls. They are ready made, from the supermarket. All that needs doing is for them to be put into the pre -warmed oven for five minutes.
Sunday breakfast at the big table is important to him.
The frozen pretzel things are all stuck to each other, they need to thaw first so that they may be separated. Panic and fury, they will not be ready for breakfast, for the late breakfast.
So the son starts to practice piano. Ten minutes, timed with a stopwatch. Every day, it is supposed to be better than an hour a week. Time will tell.
Fill up the dishwasher with all the greasy dishes, from yesterday. Find space for the pots smelling of fowl, a foul smell. But that was yesterdays meal.
Soon the machine is running, clearing the plates, pots, and cutlery of grease. Chicken fat dissolved by heat and mingled with tensides turns into something for the municipal sewage treatment plant to deal with. As they deal with all waste that goes down the pipes.
The piano practised, the pretzels unstuck. The cat throws down a small potted plant off of the window ledge, and looks at the mess on the floor from above. She enjoys throwing things down from a height. Perhaps she imagines that they will then run away, giving her something to chase.
ten
and by the time this is done it is half past
blue sky outside the window, no grey depressing vista of a rain-swept courtyard, on the contrary.
It is bright and cheerful.
Awaken to this after a night of disturbed sleep, put away the mask. This is it, this is Sunday. All is ready now for Monday, with the occurrences of Friday still in the mind.
The lights are all on, things are scattered about.
Son has been active again. Electronics, where would we be without them?
The cat is active, of course. She wants attention, she wants to play. She jumps onto a table and throws down a plastic watch.
The son commences to bake breakfast rolls. They are ready made, from the supermarket. All that needs doing is for them to be put into the pre -warmed oven for five minutes.
Sunday breakfast at the big table is important to him.
The frozen pretzel things are all stuck to each other, they need to thaw first so that they may be separated. Panic and fury, they will not be ready for breakfast, for the late breakfast.
So the son starts to practice piano. Ten minutes, timed with a stopwatch. Every day, it is supposed to be better than an hour a week. Time will tell.
Fill up the dishwasher with all the greasy dishes, from yesterday. Find space for the pots smelling of fowl, a foul smell. But that was yesterdays meal.
Soon the machine is running, clearing the plates, pots, and cutlery of grease. Chicken fat dissolved by heat and mingled with tensides turns into something for the municipal sewage treatment plant to deal with. As they deal with all waste that goes down the pipes.
The piano practised, the pretzels unstuck. The cat throws down a small potted plant off of the window ledge, and looks at the mess on the floor from above. She enjoys throwing things down from a height. Perhaps she imagines that they will then run away, giving her something to chase.
ten
and by the time this is done it is half past
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