A Late Aubade
A person praises other of his daily activities and says that he does not waste his time and he utilizes his time in useful activities. He then asks him to bring them some eatables.
Now you could be seated in a carrel and turning rotten page or mounting in a caged lift that was moving toward Ladies’ Apparel.
You could be sowing in a rough field of salvia while wearing rubber gloves or contemplating over a series of thought of somebody’s love with a disappointing head. Or you are helping a dejected setter to nurse back to health or paying heed to an unwelcoming lecture on Schoenberg’s serial technique.1
Is this nit something superior?
Consider the whole time you are not dissipating and would not be bothered to throw away. Express gratitude to God that such things are not of your flavor. Take into account the time you have by a woman’s calculations and you who had somewhat lazed in bed and kiss, may use your thought and time for this than something else. You declare that it is about midday?
If so, time takes wings and I feel no want to repeat the flowery topic of years old poetry. If you have to leave, stay for a short time and after that move downward and fetch some ice-cold white wine with some blue cheese, crackers and some amount of excellent reddish pears.