done

Finally, I’ve caught up with the blog. All the travel photos and posts have been published. I’m here, now, today.

I got back from the summer house three days ago. I think. It’s Saturday night. I think. One thirty in  the morning, so I guess it’s Sunday already. I haven’t eaten since lunch. I haven’t showered since I came home. I haven’t washed my hair since before I left the city to go to the summer house. I haven’t left the apartment for the last two days. I think I spoke with dad on the phone yesterday afternoon about some insurance related stuff, but I’m not sure. Was it earlier today? Or the day before yesterday? Lina is visiting her family, so I’m by my lonesome in the apartment.

I’ve been real efficient. I’m almost done with the topical essay about periglacial landforms that I have to finish before going north to the glacier research station on Wednesday. I’ve caught up with the blog. I’ve washed my entire travel wardrobe and my bed linen, including pillows and blankets. I’ve filled in and sent the insurance claim form for the phone that got stolen. And when I’ve needed a break, I’ve designed and almost finished a new knitted case for my new Xperia Arc, the phone I bought, unused, from Kirke.

My desk is a mess of books, notes, pens, cords, needles and yarn.

I’ve listened to Tom Odell. A young pianist who my dad introduced to me while I was at the summer house. Dad has an ability to become so over-enthusiastic about new music, in a way that almost spoils the enjoyment of it. Because he is my dad, and he sometimes annoys me, I feel I want to burst his bubble and tell him it isn’t that good. Even if it is. A piece of the teenager left in me. But with Tom Odell, I can’t. Piano and a certain kind desperation. For three days, I’ve been listening to him. Almost non-stop. He’s only got one album. I probably know all his songs by heart now. It’s been ages since I listened to music like this. Like a need. 

It’s been raining a lot. I don’t feel like I’ve missed anything outside. Tomorrow I’m going to finish that essay. Take a bath. Write nice long e-mails to Abbie and Hannes. They’ve been waiting for too long for replies already. Call Natalia, Kirke and Hanna.

But first, I’m going to sleep.