28th November, 2012.

Stupid me picked a fight with V. Got it disspelled as soon as I realized my mistake – in picking the fight, i.e., not about the cause of it: She’s decided to arrange for a christmas-calendar for her girlfriend, who’s feeling bad and down about a medical condition. Which I can applaud, it’s just that it’ll cost me at least a thousand crowns before she’s done. I can appreciate her caring for a friend, of this there is no question, it’s just that I wished she would have the money to cover for it. It feels much like she’s picking the money right out of my pocket, without me having a say at all – but if it were me I’d much rather the money would go to our kids instead. Friends and family of adult ages one had better offer one’s time, which is the most expensive gift of all. I go to work to make money for my family, so that we may continue our lifestyle – one in which our expenses out-perform my income, I might add – not to support others who are on welfare and receive a sound paycheck every month, without children and with only themselves to support. It bothers me in as much as if I were in her shoes, and were the one who stayed at home, I wouldn’t spend money on my friends like this, I would instead find a different way of letting them know of my support. A christmas-calendar, well that might as well be daily e-mails of reassurance and humor, of consolation and comfort. Of making them know that I cared and was able and willing to spend some of my only time in this life to their benefit.

Maybe I’m being picky. I can afford as much, within the privacy of these pages. I wish she would see my wide of the roles reversed. Then again, who doesn’t. Men, people, countries, religions.

Crap.

K got back from the school library with that book I told her about, that I read as a kid, “Djævelens Hule” about a dystopian society where computer gaming is prohibited and dark-clad security officers hunt down kids who sports the games in the street and undergrown clubs. Read for more than an hour to her in the evening, was glad she liked it. Could tell she didn’t care for it on the same level as I, a computer games-playing boy, did those thirty years ago (!), but who cares, it’s a cool thing to read for that kind of length to your kid and have her attention and urging one on to another chapter. Books are really cool, aren’t they. In every shape or form.

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