this will have to stop

 Again there is the sound of doors slamming just before six in the morning, the wife is under way to work. Get up and go downstairs to the bathroom, and then go on to make breakfast in the kitchen. Breakfast, the same as every day, never mind the blood pressure. Upstairs again, take a ret deliberately after finishing the short meal. Do the Wordle puzzle in the New York Times without difficulty, then go on to read about the escapades of Donald and Kamala. The ability to blind people with showmanship and untenable promises never fails to amaze.
Read about the antics of those who have lost their belongings and their homes to storm and can do no better than to attack those who would help them.

Rest for a while, then get up and start to arrange things, leave the building for a walk about town. Town is as uninteresting as ever. Take a circuit, have a cup of weak coffee in a café and return home to deal with the washing. The washing has been washing since this morning.

The son telephones, he would be happy to meet the Irish visitor who will arrive by air from Dublin this evening on the coming Friday. That would be pleasant, it will be necessary to make some arrangements.

And now the washing machine will have finished, so this will have to stop.