I need to stop checking the calendar all the time. I cannot count the days away any faster. But good lord am I looking forward to going back home. I want it to be the 23rd. I want Norway.
Thinking that that baby shouldn't do football. I don't want to put him down in any way, but he's just too little. They're going to crush him. I don't see it ending well at all. I hope he surprises me.
I didn't cry (for once). The sad is there, I think. I don't know if it's because I am finally moving on, or in some phase of indifference. Or because I have to be doped up most of the time. Justifiable or not... I'm relieved.