1. Took a long, beautiful walk with Klara.
2. Added 161 words to the article.
3. Had lunch with 6 colleagues. We love each other so much, we can’t split up even during the break. Nothing at all work-related was discussed.
4. Went to the gym.
5. Visited the dry cleaner’s, the library and the supermarket.
6. Reading: Cronica del desamor by Rosa Montero and Dr. Thorne.
7. Explored resorts for Klara’s first beach vacation we are planning for July.
It feels very weird when a person you know vaguely by sight stops you at the entrance to the library to ask cheerfully, “So what did you decide to do for him in the end? Your husband? I read on your blog yesterday that you were planning to do something nice for him.”
Obviously, I’d never discussed the blog with this person.
It’s so weird when people do that. It’s like I’m a character to them. Which is fine because it’s my choice to write but still, it’s weird.
P.S. I’ll prepare an “identity dinner” for N in honor of March 8 is what I’ll do.
I live in constant fear of getting a notice from a doctor saying “You owe us $200,000 that your insurance refuses to pay, so we are sending the bill to collections.” [This is not a fantasy; it happened to somebody at work.]
Whenever I get a letter from a doctor, it takes me a while to comprehend the text because I’m so scared. I just got a reminder in the mail I’m due for a physical, and it gave me such tachycardia that I was almost at the point of not needing any more physicals. OK, I exaggerate but still.
At lunch, I catch a snippet of somebody’s sentence:
“He’s a great plumber. Very talkative but he’s very professional.”
“Yes, Dan is great,” I say.
Living somewhere for longer than 15 minutes does have its positive sides. I now don’t feel completely lost when local people and places are mentioned.
Russian journalists offered 400 kroner to the inhabitants of Stockholm suburbs to start riots.
This is something that is very easy to organize wherever there are disaffected people who’ll be happy to make some easy money venting.