The Universe According to Benskog

Let me sleep. Hand over coffee with cream when I wake up, and I will refuse from bringing on the Apocalypse! (Am terribly tired in the morning.)

* First cold in seven months. I look like a homage to the late Michael Jackson: Chalky-white face and nose that threatens to fall off. Am beyond beautiful.

* Am going against Golden Rules of Clothing. After 500 years of "helpful" advice, I revolt. Especially against  this hint: "One should never wear stripes if one weighs more than 3lbs". I wear a breton top (gasp!): White with marine broad-stripes.

* As of tomorrow: On 9.30 sharp I have to be at Uni, with a well-written PM/essay on contract theory. Since I can´t brain today, there´s a huge risk that my essay will go off the rail and out into the open wild. I fear that my humour (TM) will gallop all over the pages.

... "Oh God, what on Earth Is My Hairdo All About?"

Frankly, no idea. But today my newly washed, clean, and up till now easygoing hair made a historical decision - to bravely reach where no hair has reached before: To the end off my shoulders, and all around my head, like a halo. Or Joey Tempest, circa 1988.

And tomorrow I am supposed to deliver a speech in front of 150 people. I rather not wash my hair all over again, since it´s terribly drying for the scalp and my already provoked hair.

Perhaps yak butter would be helpful.

And a dozen hair-pins or so.

* At last I´m allowed to handle food again. Made scones today, a whopping sixteen of them. Hubby found them. He now makes late-eventing tea for us both.

* Went to Lusse-OD yesterday. Nice, as always. The Christmas smörgåsbord was better than ever. The pickled herring had a certain bite in the taste, it wasn´t wishy-washy. Jansson´s frestelse was delicious, no crunchy fish-bones in it, and the gratin has a nice, brown crust. And marvellous Mr M. get me another Lady Lyre instead of the one that I lost at the ball last Saturday.*

* I ordered some clothes from a Danish brand. Boy, was I ever surprised when the designer herself answered to my e-mail!




* Orphei Drängar, the male singing society, has a lyre as its symbol. Every time there´s a Stor-OD (ball), the accompanying lady of the singer gets a small lyre to put on the ballgown. Every year there´s a new colour. Some of the veteran wives look like awarded charinas.