There is an unusual atmosphere in Mr. F.'s session today. I am not consciously aware of this. I am not consciously aware of very much. I am feeling lazy. I have a dimly guilty feeling that I am not doing my job properly, though in retrospect I will come to have reservations about this interpretation of the situation. Today I can't hear what he is saying very well; but then today the window onto the garden is wide open, which is as unusual as the hot summer weather. It is coming close to the summer holiday. Straining to hear him and wondering if I should shut the window, I do not remember for the moment that when he first started analysis I could seldom hear him clearly, for he used to mumble as a blanket defense.

He was late for his session today for hurried nonspecific reasons about traffic and holdups at work. He had been late yesterday, Tuesday. On Monday his car had broken down on the way to the session and the Automobile Association had relayed a message that he would not attend. He is telling me various everyday things about the sale of his house and everyday