It's morning time and I have to make an extra pot of coffee to satiate myself, my cousin, and the traveling Norwegian who is draping himself over our apartment for a few days. We met two years ago in Sveden, dismissed each other, then grew a friendship through long and wonderful letters. The object of the day yesterday (for me) was to clear up the difference between V and W in pronunciation.
I go to knock on the building manager's door to get her to open the laundromat for my Scandinavian friend. She doesn't answer, but I linger around the door just long enough to hear the unmistakable sounds of her cat puking near the threshold. I accept this as true defeat and go back upstairs.
It is time for productivity, I stayed in yesterday to nurse my ill health. I suspect it has been brought on by victorious backbends at Circus school, which opened up the lymph nodes in my hips and they have remained swollen ever since. Circus teaches you all kinds of weird shit about your body. Tonight I shall drag my lanky, wintery companion to circus cardio with me so I can die in company.
Pictures to follow shortly.