Today is a day of home office and the will to anything at all is just not present. Not in the least, not at all, it is so hidden that the wish to do constructive things appears unnatural. Get up make coffee, try to change the sensation but it will not go away. Take the pills, register that the toothache has returned. This was to have been a constructive day, and it has started badly.
Take a blood pressure reading. One hundred and thirteen over eightyfive is the result of that, and that is low. Still, there is nothing to be done about it, and it is supposed to be better than too high. Still, put on the clothes.
Go out to lie down on the couch for a moment, little knowing that it will be midday before consciousness returns.
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