too bad

 Now, at three minute past midnight type these notes. It is too late, but in they go anyway.

The day was strange and started badly, as always. It will be necessary to ask the doctor as to why there is always a collapse into drowsiness and sleep after taking the pills that she and the urologist prescribed. Surely something is strange.

The morning goes in a daze, things get warmed up and eaten. There is no explaining this constant dizziness and shortsightedness. It is too much to bear really.

The door to the house does not lock any more.

This is nasty, and there is now way of knowing where to go to have it fixed.

Anyone can wander in from the street. Just like that.

After midday, go to the artists studio across the river and continue with the never ending story of taing pictures of the little figures. This just goes on and on. There must be an end to it somewhere.

There is a party opposite the studio. It is unfortunate, but most of the guests do not turn up. That is sad, but tha is how it goes.

Before long, it is dark, and now it is almost midnight.

The door to the house lets itself just be pushed open.

Too bad.