Stef has to be woken. School at eight in Italy. Your turn, my wife says. It's the moment when routine weighs most heavily. Tiled floors, stone stairs.
Life is a treadmill.
Other people are just part of the works. The family that can turn a winter weekday breakfast a happy social event is probably unheard of. Still we do have our days. If routine is a monster, it's only fair that it should be slain from time to time. I rush downstairs to the kitchen, unarmed alas.