kitchen

 Another day that starts of bright and then goes dismal. The weight of the head gives the feeling that it should be down at the knees, that is impossible, so lie down. It was all planned and ready, but this must be what they call a depression again. 

Lie down on the couch, and listen to the clock tick. Then there are strange dreams, a dream of being at work, even though that is six months ago now, and there is no reason ever to go back there. 

If only these miserable depressions would go and stay away. They were there before, but the rules of work kept them at bay, it was still possible to work and to feel awful at the same time. It is just not possible to be constructive and be depressed at the same time. 

Wake at ten in the morning, and consider what is to be done. Start to clean the kitchen, to tidy up the shelves, to wipe down the surfaces, to investigate all the storage pots full of things, some of them long forgotten.

It is a tiny kitchen.

But now it is evening.