slow

the new mask is blowing fresh air. Why did the old one not do this.

No idea.

But at least sleep is deeper now, a felt space between going to bed and waking, no gasping awake in the middle of the night with inability to go back to sleep again.

Grey damp clouds visible outside the window, the four panes making a cross, actually eight panes glazing a double window, two placed behind each other.

It is sunday

It is quiet outside,

there is nothing to suffer for, really.

The son is up early, he has things planned for his computer.

Barely awake a horizontal motion to the machine.

A sense of the orderly lacking entirely.

ARGHHH

oh well.

It could be worse

there is room for improvement.

Get the computer 

write these notes.

See that the clock in the hallway, attended to only yesterday, has stopped again.

Like people, old clocks need constant attention.

A short visit to a specialist will not cure them.

The other clock is going to fast.

Attend to both,

there may be a problem with the hands of the clock jamming against the case.

All old and shaky.

The son is up now, again, it is nine.

His English books out.

Talk to him a for a while in English.

Things are slow here

on Sundays