wasted day

 Sore throat and snivels, and the weather is cold. The flat is not heated, this is not yet possible. It has been impossible to get plumbers who will do the work. Stay in bed, that is nice and warm. It is Sunday, a day to be lazy on, and the flat is not inviting.

After a few hours the snivels and the headache and whatever other  ailments are bearable. The shoulders are stiff and sore.

A late breakfast with the same ingredients as usual is helpful. Humanity returns, read the news, reports on the intense evil in other areas of the planet. How much is one part of this? Is this everyone, is this just human? "Is it mine or is it them?" The eggs are just right, The toast is good. That is all. The son is up and has already filled the washing machine with his clothing. He has developed a habit of washing and drying his own clothes. Where this passion came from is unclear, he is unable to clean up his room at all.

Both heels have blisters, there are still two patches left in the emergency box. These patches provide relief, they are left over from last autumn, when a similar injury was incurred. It will be necessary to go out and buy more of the things.

This will be a wasted day, a day on which things are done that are of no great account.