The son was active during the night and the kitchen is a mess. He made a bowl of cream, and that is a disaster, the mixer is still lying on the worktop dripping cream. Should this be cleared away, or just worked around the mess, leaving it standing as is in the hope that he will clear it up later. Decide that the hope is too slim to be remotely real, and move the sticky slimy tool over to the space by the sink for rinsing as soon as the dishwasher has been emptied.
The personal breakfast is over, and the first articles read. There is no understanding as to why the Ukraine chose to insult Germany, but then they are a free country and can choose their friends. A protracted war would ruin both sides, Ukraine and Russia. Countries may choose their friends, people may use their friends, it is up to the individual entity to do as it needs to do.
A ding from the machine, the New York times has arrived. They report on a madman who has bought weapons technology to impose Hell onto a busy subway. They write about America's problems with democracy, and the right of every man to keep more weapons than he can conceivably bear. They write about all kinds of things, and they write well.
The sun is up for some time now, a good three quarters of an hour. The son has risen too, and without a word he goes to the lieu de lavage or whatever the French would call it. These are his last Easter holidays from school, and he has not informed any body of his further plans in detail. Perhaps he is being cool and is just waiting for things to happen.
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