Snowstorm

 A day of strangeness, a hard time getting out of bed because of the cold, a nasty feeling in the throat. Get up, go downstairs, make breakfast. Go upstairs again, with the breakfast. Eat and read the news, there is an email from the artists, a writer has written a piece for their catalogue.

That is all fine.

What is not fine is that the clothes smell of restaurant and food and smoke. Put all of yesterday's clothing and any other black things into the washing machine, that will do. Thirty degrees, water, washing powder and movement. That will have to do. Go upstairs and put on fresh clothing.

And then settle down to sort out last nights work. This was to take pictures of an actor reading short stories from a book accompanied by a musician playing short pieces on a saxophone. The author was present, and there was a large crowd there too.

Today the work has to be done to bring the pictures into some form of order and throw out the ones that are no good.

Also, telephone with the repair place about the car. They promise it for the afternoon.

In the afternoon take a train to the repairs place, the car is ready.

Telephone with the artists, and make an appointment for the evening to bring up the new pictures and to discuss the further moves on their new catalogue.

That evening, the roads are covered in snow, drive home carefully in the snowstorm.