no bigger picture

Getting up is misery.
The son is baking bread, he keeps on putting it back into the oven, in the hope that it will get darker with longer baking.
He is most likely right.
Later, there is a loaf of white bread, a round loaf, a sort of a bap.
He is rather proud of this.

But the kitchen is very untidy now, everything just there were it had last been used.
Put the things together.
Fill the dishwasher
Find the coffee maker.
Grind coffee.

And whilst the coffee is being made in the big Bialetti
Take the yellow pill as the doctor had ordered.
That is for the stomach, something to reduce the acidity.

And now the kitchen has been cleared, the books removed from the floor

This is sunday, the horrible end of the week.
But now, sunday breakfast, time to eat the bread that the son has baked
Since six this morning.

Leave the bigger picture be.
There is no bigger picture.