their feet in reality

awake, and it was a night of strange dreams, stories that went on and on had their feet in reality and the remainder progressively in madness.
awake, now finally, it is light, it is nine, this is the last day of the Christmas holidays, three days off work between boxing day and Saturday.

And get up, put on some house clothes, some day clothes, clothing without collars.
Clean out the coffee machine, turn on the grinder, wait until it is finished.
Fill the fresh grounds into the metal container, put the machine back together, put it onto the gas and turn on the flame.


Talk to the son, he is up now, pet the cat, it seems friendly today.
The telephone rings, pick it up, there is nobody on the line. A nothing in the morning.

The cat climbs up the trunk of the Christmas tree, decides against the manoeuvre and jumps back down. Whilst it is in the tree the camouflage of its colours make it almost invisible, but for the eyes. A curious effect, unexpected. It is a tabby cat, brown and black and white. Think of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland, nothing was left but for the grin.

The coffee is made, the laptop is on the table.
The notes are finished today, and hope that the cold will go away in the course of the day.