Monday, run under time compression because that's what a compression utility is for - compacting the repetitious, patterned, and already known. Instead of ticking through each dilated second of sixteen waking hours, just breeze through in a single, telegraphic paragraph:
John woke up from dreams of an éclat of glowing yellow trees to the weather radio alarm clock at eight o'clock. Low of 40 overnight with a high today of 70, partly cloudy. The 1020 millibar high centered approximately 110 miles south-east over the sea, defining an occluded front off the coast. Five foot swell with a twelve second interval and two foot wind-waves with 10 knot winds out of the southeast. The computer weather voice began to repeat itself. Out of bed, coffee machine had coffee waiting. Phone rang with call from temporary agency reporting that a clerical assistant needed at the bank tower downtown. Wore shirt and tie. Drove to the tower. Parked in the underground parking deck. Up to reception, "Your job will be entering these numbers into a computer, ok?" Lunch in the ground floor food court. A pretty petite blonde with pale skin read The Count of Monte Cristo over a salad, endive lettuce occasionally sliding between moist red lips slightly oiled by the dressing, maybe a vinaigrette? More numbers. Parking deck. Drove home. Weather radio reported that energized by an infusion of moisture-laden Gulf air, the front had broken its occlusion and was driving for landfall, depressing the mercury and dropping rain. Sleep.
-:::- Temporary: Tuesday