July 31, 2019:
"You look like Gollum," says a helpful minion. So that you realize: you're in sadder shape than you've understood.
A problem occurs. In the morning there'll be conflict. Anticipating, you retreat to your room, yes like Gollum into his cave, ignoring emails, ignoring phone calls, in the dark with curtains closed, until, days later, thick-headed management at last cottons-on to the fact that you're gone, and that you're not coming back.
So that your world returns to quiet, not so much restfully as inevitably, as it was, perhaps as it ever will be.