There was a late night discussion with a man running a guest house last night. His landlord and his landlords girlfriend had given him a hard time with curious references to his duties towards them. There is not much to be done beyond paying the rent in a normal situation, but that couple thinks that the work circulates about their ideas. The fact that their ideas vary from week to week does not make things easy.
Woke early, heard the son say goodbye in the corridor, and stepping outside the door watched him walk around the corner by the church. It would have been nice to talk to him, but perhaps this will happen at a later date.
After waking, and after getting up, realise that a shower is necessary. After breakfast go upstairs and have a shower. Then go on to the top flat and count out the pills for the day, and take them and a few extra clothes downstairs into the warm shop. The whole day continues on a slow drift, with the cold foggy weather doing its part to maintain a steady depressed feeling. There is the constant suspicion that a major health episode is lurking, waiting to strike. The knowledge that this is most unlikely does nothing to allay the suspicion.
The supermarket has repaired and refilled its refrigerated shelving. Buy a few things, but this is all in the knowledge that there will be little desire to cook them.
At home, there is a call from the tiresome people wanting help transporting some chairs. It is all very well them having a car that has broken down, but it is surely so that they could have had it fixed in the meantime, Instead they will avail of a this friends generosity more or less free of charge.
The general feeling of depression are wearing down a bit, after such an indolent day.
This is a thought that comes from living in a sick heaven
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