likely tomorrow!

 Why is there a Friday feeling, the knowlledge of a day lost none gained.  The day starts  late with a telephone call, a meeting at one and a meeting at five but that was the second call, it ia all a confusion. Let Confusion live! It will destroy much.

A meeting at five thirty and now it is five.

No, it is four, fill in some details-More!

The meeting was first at the railway station with the collector, it is good to see him again. Being away from work seems to do him good, the work seems to use him up. It is a strange thing for a man of his intelligence to be doing factory work. Leave him at the dance studio, he has eighty minutes of class there. Then to the shops, there are a few things that are needed, whatever over the weekend and the days that will most likely follow. Staples, boring things like bread and butter, a few eggs and a few pretzels.

At home, speak with the son about his studies, he has progressed so much further in all these technical things at nineteen than his father ever will, even if he lives to be ninety. Speak, he is a bit behind with his studies, especially in maths. It will remain to be seen how and if he catches up. He seems to be taking to the student life rather well, that year at home did him good.

Afterwards, leave the house and meet the collector outside his studio and take a walk around town, explain a few details that may have been missed, and talk and chat. There is an episode with a sudden searing headache and a strong whistle and hiss in the head. Now the day of the week is forgotten, tell freinds met on the street that they will be seen tomorrow, but that is wrong, Saturday is today and tomorrow is Sunday,  the confusion grows, age is taking its toll.

Say goodbye to the collector at the bridge, and then walk home to mind the head and get ready to proceed to the guitar player, for a concert in the Irish pub out in the country.

Now it is sixteen twenty three,  perhaps more will be possible later.

Maybe more later, but most likely tomorrow!