Hey now, Hey now, don't dream it's over. I am still tired.

I'm surprised I managed to get to work. I would pay good money for the chance to sleep in.

Let me in, let me in.

A cold morning. I was tucking my head into my jacket. My hands deep in my pockets. Grey, cold wind. Strangers all around. I felt like I was a stranger walking in some distant country. Strange feeling. Like it was a Finnish film noir. With the Disney touch of one of the kitty brothers watching me from under a cargo wagon thing. In shelter from the wind.

Work was spent cleaning drain pipes with Ayhan. Cafer still not around. But he should be any day now. It's strange to think that my time at the Barn is slowly running out. I keep getting the kind of old wicked thoughts like "in a month and half you'll be gone so you can just start skipping again and sleeping in and you'll feel better and you don't have to care about the others at the Barn, soon you'll never see them again" and on and on. My loyalty is being tested. Such as it is.

So far I am standing my ground.

And christmas is coming closer. Christmas with Skye. There is no part of that sentence that isn't great.

I got a mix cd in the mail today. I assume it's from dear Dylan, even though the sender information said Baby Rumsfeld.. But it had her distinct style. It was addressed to "Lasse Lisa Simpson". That made me laugh out loud. See, you can tell I'm older than 20 because I type out the words.

Che Guevara is my new god and I must go destroy Israel. If I interpret the letter correctly.

But thanks for the mix, Baby Rumsfeld.

And now I think it's time for bed. Tomorrow is a big day. Brøndby are playing in Germany against Schalke. Cross your fingers for them. It's a big game.

Tootles.

np: nothing