My internal clock has switched itself to vacation mode -- yesterday I went to bed at 7.30 pm, only to wake up from a nightmare at 9.30, and stay up until 1. So not awesome.

The dream included stalkers, closed doors and arm dealers. I can recognize the pattern; either it's too much Chuck digested in the last thirty-six hours, or the first-real-new-apartment-freak-out. I'm guessinga bizarre combination of both.

So, yes, here I am, with ten more boxes to unpack and my bookcase slowly filling up. I managed to create some living space, thanks to all my friends and neighbors (of which some travelled a long way to help me) -- my gratitude is vast and overwhelming, and the karma shall reach me soon enough, I presume. My mind was so occupied with all this, I'm actually just starting to relax for the first time since the previous Sunday evening.

In other news, still money-less.

Oh, oh, and the best quote of the weekend belongs to G., who, wrestling my old, big and technologically ancient TV set out of my dad's car, paused to wipe some sweat off his face, and shot me a death-stare: "Say, Lena... you ever heard about Liquid Crystal Display panels?!"

Never in my life, obviously ;)

On the cultural front:

Been reading last year's Pulitzer winner-book by Junot Diaz. It's good. REALLY good. Have a go.

Nothing interesting going on in music. Still hooked on Joe Bonamassa.

A non-writing stage (though I need to type in the stuff I wrote in Brussels).

And lo, I do have too many books...