Occasionally in books there will be misunderstandings between characters, and feelings are hurt, and relationships are damaged, and I just want to climb into the book and shout, "What are you doing? Just explain what really happened!" but instead my heart gets tight, and I keep it to myself, because they're just books and I have no idea how to begin climbing inside. It would seem that when these misunderstandings happen in real life there should be more space to get things right in, but there hardly ever is.

I keep losing days, trying to write things, or just figure out where I am, and then something happens, and something else happens, and then the thing I was just trying to word feels too foreign to even think about. Now though, I seem to have equalized. Sometimes when people are surprising it feels terrible, but I feel pretty good right now, and come Saturday or Sunday I expect to feel pretty great.

All there is to get through is Thursday. The only real upside would be an early morning at the airport, which is my second favorite time to be there. I would like a pill that eliminates resentment for up to twelve hours, whose side effects may include drowsiness. Instead I guess I'll try keeping my headphones on and my head full of ferries and fireplaces and Saturday night.

And now for Norway. In Norway the letter O sometimes has a slash through it. Everyone in Norway wears a sweater every day, and either their last meal or their next is mostly made of fish and seasoned with dill. Every Norwegian has rosy cheeks, and their version of Jingle Bells sounds more like Christmas than ours. Norway was the perfect thing for tonight.