Up and at 'em early this morning. The factory whistle is a-blowin'. Or will soon. As it has the past couple evenings, sleep came an hour at a time last night. I don't want to do anything. I want to do nothing. I could spend forever in empty hours watching the day go by. It must be a disease. I've got the Rip Van Winkle.
I have nothing to say this morning. I often have nothing of interest to say, but rarely nothing at all. I can be mighty chatty. I shall blame it on the disorientation I face in returning to work. It is an awfully daunting task. The trick is to be undaunted. I'll try to be undaunted.
The thing is. . . I didn't take any pictures whilst I had the chance. I didn't snap even a roll of film through the Leica. Now. . . there will be no time.
Maybe I'll just go back to bed and let them start the day without me.
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