I’ve been a bit knocked out by a cold the past couple of days. Sunday was horribly boring. Before going to bed I realised that the only actual conversation I’ve had with anyone for the whole day didn’t add up to more than three sentences:
1) Saying hi to Eskil when he came by to pick something up
2) Saying bye to Eskil ten minutes later
3) “One pack of LM Light please” at the 7-11
I am looking forward to getting my last salary from Yfo next Tuesday – until them I’m on 50 kronor per day, and since smokes cost 40 I’m not in a happy place. Today turned out to be nice since Tobbe visited – we went to the driving range and he did a handbrake turn. I was impressed.
Saturday was mini-out-day and Jan was kind enough to buy me beer. And wine. And whiskey. And I was coughing my lungs out at the same time. I recall Lenny Bruce (Woody Allen?) making jokes about tuberculosis being a sexy disease; None of the people I spat pieces of my lungs at seemed to appreciate it though.
