untruth

All was well in the early morning. there was rain pouring down out of the heavens in a continuous downpour. An aircraft flew by overhead, much lower than they usually do. 

Get up and go for a shower, that works out fine, then back upstairs, find clothing and take the pills. Downstairs, make a cup of coffee, no eggs for breakfast today. Solve the New York Times world puzzle in a satisfactory manner. And then the days collapse came again, lie down until things get better.

It is not easy to deal with these sudden bouts of tiredness, it is not easy to establish a cause or a reason.

Wander about the house, more or less miserable.

Then go out to the weekly meeting. It is in a different place today, and it is very noisy indeed. It is not at all pleasurable. There is the usual talking shop with the photographer.

Go home, and decide to enter a picture in the annual photographic gallery show. Spend an hour selecting the picture and printing it out, trimming it and fitting the whole lot into a frame. It is all work.

Bring the finished product to the gallery, fill out a form. and leave it there. Chat with the gallery owner for a while.

And then return home as the rain starts to fall again.

There will be a party later tonight, there is no great wish to go, but in a small town not going causes offence.

And excuses are not easy to make if one is not good at lying