I'm enjoying Sunday in the sofa, reading with X.

We've just started a one-month trial subscription to a Swedish morning paper and as such, I'm suddenly partaking in the game that is the daily news, which is something I've skipped except through very filtered ways, i.e. RSS-feeds and Twitter, which are of course very pre-filtered by myself and limited to certain areas; I'm not trying to kid myself to thinking that this paper isn't filtered in every way, from the political arena to who knows who in the editorial office, but it proffers me more than what I'm used to which is really a good thing; it's lovely to sit and read the morning paper during the weekend with X, both of us sipping a cuppa.

Meanwhile, the Swedish TV-jumble that is "Glamorama", is on TV. A marathon. X and I dive through the existence of three girls who have much money and no parlay. Anna Hibbs, one of the mains: "The TV-presenter said we're 'jet-set girls'. How could he say that? I only travel by express train!"

I read of the US having left Iraq two weeks in advance of Obama's promised deadline date, appx. seven years after Bush touted "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!". Now, Al-Qaeda and their likes have a much stronger fan-base in said country. There are up to a million killed in Iraq during the last seven years. It just makes me want to play Nelly Furtado's "Promiscuous" as remixed by Holy Fuck, at obnoxious levels and forget about the entire, maddening thing. Bureaucrats making decisions that affect millions, not even having to push the button that launches the missiles.

Blixa sits comfortably numb on the back of our fat-screen TV, warming herself while definitely not watching what's going on. Her eyes are even closed.

And the day has just started. Sunday at home. Mmm!