more later

 The sun is shining into the small room through the glass of the balcony door. The door has eight glass panes, and the view is of the ancient balcony, the snow covered roofs and the tree covered valley bluffs.

That is cheerful enough, the house is quiet and calm. 

The cat has been fed.

The wife is at work.

The son is at his studies.

Now there is time to catch up on the work that has been waiting to be done all of the weekend. One thing to be done after the next thing,  and one at a time if at all possible.

This is much later now: 

The impossibility of these things is apparent. But there you are, work all day at the impossible and things move, hurdles are cleared from the path, plans and procedures are worked upon to finish the remainder of the work and to further the next project in its turn. Maybe the problem with the proofing has been solved,  a short note to the software firm should solve that one.

The prints of the woodcarving artist's work are done, the pictures are just to discover a better way to take the pictures, a better way to portray the work and conform to the artist's intentions.

Things are looking up, just ever so slightly

And now it is nearly twenty past seven in the evening.