It is light and it is late, the head is sore and the cold is receding. A few days more of short breath and coughs to look forward to, and then it will be gone. Gone for a while, not gone for good.
Hear the sound of the son making a cup of cocoa for himself. Or some such.
Get up, later again. Hear the sound of the Christmas present in the background, a small printer that makes three dimensional models in plastic. A small device making robotic noises now that it has been built in a frenzy of post Christmas joy. A small kit from china, wooden plates and electrical components. And the first thing printed are the devices own spare parts.
Make coffee.
After the stress of work, of commuting to and from work, it is good to rest, and the body demands it. The infections caught in work, or on public transport need attention, the body needs support in the fight to deal with with infections.
Look up the news.
And as always, it is not good.
And the cat wants attention.
And the flat would need tidying.
Where is the escape, is there one?
Stupid musing.
Drink the coffee.
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