I’m almost alone at the center now. Both of my supervisors are here, and a couple of Ph.D. students, but otherwise, it’s quite empty. There are no milk deliveries anymore, but I found an opened carton of milk, expiration date June 10th, in the fridge in the master’s student kitchen that actually hadn’t gone bad. I used it for the three cups of tea that I’ve had today. I also found a package of cherries in which only the top part had started molding. I don’t think anyone is going to mind that I ate the remaining non-moldy ones for my afternoon fika. (And I’m happy I’m not a biologist, so that I have no idea about the existence of the potential invisible toxic spores I might have ingested.)
I’m sitting in the master’s student thesis room in the basement, as this is an office that is completely empty now, i.e. I won’t be thrown out, as I’ve been in all other places I’ve tried to sit during my traineeship. It might be one of the warmest days of this summer today, 26 degrees and sunshine, but down here in the basement it’s freezing cold. I’m wearing a fleece jacket and my light blue cashmere shawl. I’m reading articles about coastal erosion in Alaska and searching for global datasets on climate and environmental change, talking to myself. Giving up excited little sounds whenever I find datasets that are actually georeferenced. The acoustics in this office is great. I sing Swedish folk songs and write lists on the whiteboard, walking barefoot.
It’s the small wonders, coincidences and happy surprises of life that keep us going.
Katja Malmborg 