jealousy

 Awake and it is still dark,  it is just before dawn. Go downstairs to the bathroom, cringe at the mess of clothing deposited on every horizontal surface. There is no understanding for this any more, still there is an internal resistance to cause a screaming rage. Such behaviour would surely be counterproductive.

Go back upstairs, and lie down again, wait until the sleep has gone and the rage and panic with it. Gather the used clothing from yesterday, take that downstairs and put it into the washing basket, then take a short shower.

Make breakfast, trying to ignore the chaos left by the son from the night before. It is a thing that he may never learn now, but he cannot expect others to clear up his mess. Perhaps he does not care. Somehow, it will be necessary to find a way out of this lack of hope, this despair. There is coffee and eggs on toast, a standard sort of simple breakfast. Take it upstairs to the room that some may call the study, and eat it all up there, whilst reading the bleak news.

In the background the workers are starting to hammer and saw at the neighbours flat. There is jealousy at their ability to organise their lives, to make things work.

Jealousy will not help.