a Sunday morning

The dim morning light from the window is fallen from a cloudy sky, sleep is over now. There is a new head for the razor, three bladed, and the rough feeling to the face dictates that it is time to shave.
Check that there is hot water from the tap, then spread shaving foam on the face after a wash with warm water. The new razor razes well, the stubble is removed, and most of the soap is drawn off as well. Wash the razor, clean the washbasin.

Then turn on the shower, and allow the remains of the soap and the dirt and dust accrued yesterday to wash away.
That was pleasant, and return to the bedroom, get dressed, and make coffee. These morning habits are important, because they induce movement even when the mind is still sluggish.
The wife is asleep, small snores now and again, and sometimes more regular ones

In the hallway there is a plastic basket of wet clothing, left there yesterday by the wife. Pick it up, take it into the attic, hang the clothing on the line. They are the wife's clothes, all washed yesterday. Take the basket down again, leave it in the hall beside the clothes press.
The plastic container from Ikea beside the bed has been filled with used clothes during the past week, they all need washing. Take the whole stack into the bathroom, place them in the washing machine, charge the machine with washing powder, and twist the knob until the arrow points to 40°. Press the button for extra water and push the start button.
The machines indicators light up and then it expresses disgruntlement in a rapid series of beeps. Open the door again, check that the rubber seal around the door is in place, and close the door.
Hard.
The machine's indicators light up, the numbers "140" appear, and there is the rushing sound of water in the pipes.
All is well.

Return to the bedroom, take the jacket, take the bag with the camera, and leave the house.

Take a Sunday morning walk in the park.