05-07-2004

How it still functions, this old IBM laptop of mine, I never fail to wonder. Bought it for some two hundred dollars US while I was stationed there, in California, and it has never let me down since. Believe I’ll keep it till the day I die. Making use of it tonight from my comfortable position in the couch I’ve slept on a little more than a hundred days, now, ever since the arrival of the little one. And, added, writing this does me good in more ways than one; it gets so hot against my legs on which the device rests, it’ll help clear out the sore throat I’ve dragged around for days. ~~~ Bought a house in Soroe, signed my name on the dotted line today. So from Septemberonwards I’ll pay near eight thousand crowns each month for the next thirty years or until new opportunities arise. And where’s the harm in that. One point four million buys me a house some five times bigger than the Osterbro apartment. Enough room to put up ones feet, weary – mine – with having a non-too-great overlook on life in general, and in light of recent – three and a half months, the aforementioned hundred days in fact – events. On the same grounds readily accepted the girlfriend’s offer to have this current domicile to myself for twenty-four or more hours, on the condition she would equally readily be back from visiting her parents in that time if they were to voice dreaded complains along the lines of ‘are you feeding that girl enough’, or the classic ‘they are supposed to cry, you know’. So tonight the couch is mine alone, and I must be honest and allow the feeling of relief that comes with the predictability I have failed to reach within the last, yes, hundred days or so. That’s truly the greatest difficulty I have with this our mutual long-term invest­ment into our baby’s childhood, the way one can’t put one’s head down and rest for a given number of minutes and trust the young one in question to respect that desire. The funny – oh, well – thing in this, is that with every book and article we read on how babies sleep, or at least how they are supposed to sleep even if they themselves don’t read the same articles, we’re told how “the circumstances in which the baby falls asleep must be the exact same in which they wake up”. Idea being, if something is dif­ferent, a different light or shadow or whatever, they’ll get scared, and also, rather more importantly if you ask me, when they do wake up from the light sleep which follows the deep slumper, if things are exactly as they were when they fell asleep in the first place, they’re the more likely to shift back into sleep. Important facts, when one knows they wake up – as do we as grown-ups only we’re so accustomed to this we fall right back into sleep – some five or six times with every sleep-period. Brings me back to the funny – ironic – in all of this, in as much as when we as adults try and tend to these abovementioned cir­cumstances, we can be sure that they do not in turn apply to ourselves while our efforts are on-going. No matter how good we get at arranging all so everything stays unchanged during our kid’s naptime, we’re ourselves always awakened to unusual, different circumstances compared to those in which we went to sleep, usually the upheavel of the baby’s crying. Last night proved a particularly violent awakening, and no doubt it was the catalyst in the girlfriend’s decision to have her mother pick her up. In all fairness, the abrubtness of awakening was spared no one: the little one woke up because she was hungry and thus woke up not to similar conditions with which she dozed off. An amiable agreement with the folks-in-law, incidentally; wasn’t like she, V, tossed herself and our daughter in the car while her mother drove by slowly, to speed away immediately afterwards. Decision by mutual consent, and must admit to some admiration for her mother, who’s kind to assist in times such as these. ~~~ And so it came to pass I found myself on the couch with a sense of at least the immediate period ahead of me, and what a relief it is to one who’s of late procured a great many wonderful books but have not had the time to delve into them. So am keeping the feelings of loneliness at bay with a volume of Salinger’s, ‘Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters’ (Aside on the loneliness, state of which deserves a mention: Being simply out of training on this, I’m inclined to feel its haunting to an immediately greater extend than I’ve felt it since the passing of the later of the early years in the capital, notably. So whenever she – now they – are gone from my sight, I’m damn near perplexed(?) with what should not feel unfamiliar to me, yet has me pondering the significance of this strange emotion I know by experience but no longer by habit. What’s required to ease the transition is of course the old formula of work on the project, any damn one, and these entries and the occasional visit with the movie-theatres, which is incidentally exactly what I’m trying my best at, here). I cannot signity enough how I’ve missed the quality of the written word of a capable author such as J.D. himself, so suffice to deem it such a valuable use of my time I’m even at serious lengths considering calling in sick at work tomorrow, officially on grounds of – not entirely untrue – wanting to clear this damn sore throat. Wednesday, i.e. Am hoping for a quiet day.

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