Write a return mail to the son, who kindly answered today, saying that there was no need to worry about him. His egocentric view of things seems to confuse concern with happiness to hear from him. It will become necessary to tell him that it is simply nice to hear from him, the times for care and control are past.
The quiet and peace of the early morning are all around, the dust settling undisturbed under the furniture causing the rich yellow floorboards to pale to an unhealthy grey. The untidiness of the room is incredible, nothing is returned to its place, and there is so much diverse junk on the ground that wiping the floor has become an impossibility.
Never mind, the eggs on toast and the cup of coffee in the morning will go a long way to saving the day. The time that it will take to clean things up will be time wasted. It is time to clear away the breakfast things and to put on day clothes. Instead, just make another cup of coffee, and think about the pains in the left hand side of the chest, a strained muscle in the shoulder.
Would a train journey make sense today? It would be a chance to get away, and then to have to return to the scenery of destruction and disorder. Why is it impossible to just get up and leave now?
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