I was up this morning at some semblance of a normal time, ate some bran flakes and perused the papers and, then, because it was a chilly, October morning, curled up again in bed and fell asleep. I had a spectacular dream about touring Italy with an elegant, tall woman (where did that come from?) and running to catch a train. And I woke up, and it was 11 0’freaking clock. What happened there?
Now, although I really had nothing much to do today, I have much less time to not do it in. This is not an insurmountable problem, since most of the stuff I wasn’t planning to do today is stuff postponed by not being done last week. I could not do it tomorrow just as well. But still. It’s troubling.
Avoiding as much work as I do takes time, and can’t be rushed.
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