En route to Uppsala: dim skies, no rain

A cloudy morning in early August. Frost was settling over the green dunes of Stockholm as I backed a van out from a garage. To match the visibility of the sky, trying not to bump into another car or a slab of concrete was like trying to spot a grain of sand through a millimeter-sized pinhole. I loaded some technical gear into the van and got away to little traffic and a spanking-new GPS navigational system. Hooray for tech that saves my sorry behind from my geographical problems. ((I'm lost when it comes to finding my way through mere sense of direction - I have none.))

Once in Uppsala, I got working pretty quickly, everything going according to plans. No bumps.

On the way back, it seemed as though nature had decided to wring the last drop of rain from its hold; I could almost see more than ten meters in front of me, despite hard-working windshield wipers.

I veered away from a couple of cars that seemed to be driven by drunks, the type that, once they hit a sharp curve, quickly and sharply veered in the opposite direction. Another time I thought the guy behind me was my dad. He was so close to my car I started to suspect I'd see the face of my dad, a Super Mario-look-a-like at any moment.

Driving is freedom. Don't get me wrong, I prefer using traffic that doesn't pollute the air as much, but driving anywhere - I don't care, I don't care, I don't care - is like floating.

Going back to Stockholm: Blind Melon was wrong

While out walking in the rain during lunch a few boys were busy hurling themselves into a lake, laughing so hard they couldn't help breathing in water.

As I am now travelling home I feel that's where I want to be, without anything planned. Anything other than cooking with X, in so many ways.