Worrisome Dreams. 5 AM. Wobbly knees. Weird winter weather. The dog and I walk and walk and walk. Better: the dogs walks elegantly on his paws I waggle along. The dogs brings a massive wedge. I sigh. I don’t want to carry a massive piece of wood after him, when he doesn’t want it anymore. It is freezing cold. The bus is late. I wait and miss the train. I wait longer. I am not good at waiting. Not good at all. The man in opposite to me on the train eats Waldorf salad. It is not even 7 AM. I wish the train would have a wagon-lit. At least I have a window-seat. For terrible two minutes I am afraid that I forgot my wallet at home. Luckily I didn’t. I wriggle my half-frozen toes. Wistful I dream of a life in warmer spheres. I drink water. Ice- cold but not yet water- ice. I print out work-sheets. The whole morning I talk about war. Half of the afternoon belongs to warfare as well. I am always worried to offer them too less. I never see them excited about anything. Whatever I read with them, they are above everything. Always with the air of condescension they come and they leave. I don’t know what to do. But I am not a wise—woman and probably it’s all my fault. Only one student wears an ash-cross on the forehead. Ash Wednesday. In the previous years more than half of my students did. Is this the crisis of Western Christianity everybody’s wailing about? It rains. I am always happy to wear my wax-jacket. Weather-proof. I even wear it in August. It never get’s warm anyway. But I never bought a pair of Wellington’s. I have pride, too. The Irish election campaign again discusses the introduction of a wealth-tax. I wonder why the never seriously discuss social housing. I am a wee bit hungry, but I have no time to stop for a bite. That’s not too great but bad not enough for Weltschmerz either. Someone collects money for a wedding. Not again I think. I am always wondrous why people make such a public affair of their private decisions. I don’t have to be worried. No one will ever marry me. Weary. Too many worries. Reminder: I have to buy washing powder and Wensleydale cheese. Today is going to be long day. G. and I will do a mock-interview. She applies for a new work- place. I have to watch out, not to miss the last train- Finally I need to get my watch repaired. Weird enough, all the w-words? Oh, Read On you might wistfully say: What a word-salad. Well then, tomorrow is Thursday.