Which is just wrong.

Up at a sensible time, sit, coffee. A bit of playing the guitar and writing emails. Shower and dress and realise I should have left about ten minutes before.

As I’m cutting through an estate, I see a council operative cutting the grass. In January. In the rain. He doesn’t seem to be noticing that wherever he drives his motorized lawnmower is being churned up into mud. It’s difficult to work out whether this is incompetence,

I get in to work frustratingly late – this has been happening a lot recently. I need to straighten out my relationship with time.

As I’m not eating today, I work through what would be lunchtime – getting another book ready to go to print.

Late afternoon, I pop downstairs to look for a package that was reported delivered this morning. Can’t find it anywhere. Check with the person who was supposed to have received it (who hadn’t seen anything), all the places it could be. Eventually, I contact Amazon support who will look for it. Feeling a bit grah and helpless in the face of bureaucracy.

I finish up the artworking and print the book out. When I return from collecting the printouts the package has appeared on my desk: it appears that it was trapped under a pile of books all the time. Now, having got used to the fact that it’s gone astray, I feel angry that it’s turned up. Which is just wrong.

Walking home in rain that’s not quite cold enough to be snow (indeed occasionally turns into snow), but easily cold enough to be pretty nasty.

Lots of emails have come through raising issues I need to respond to. Everything seems to happen at the same time. Anyway, I spend the evening at the computer dealing with them.

Watching interviews on YouTube while playing around with what turns out to be E major with an added C natural for juice, which I think is what a CA track that I’m trying to learn is in. But I could be, and invariably am, wrong.