This last week my house hunting has been seriously impeded by an attack of witches, that was the learned opinion of the learned doctor at least. Hekseskudd in Norwegian, Hexenschuss in German according to my students - which is called something as boring as lumbago in English. So what can you do when attacked by witches? Not sitting I have found, but it is all right to lie down, walk or stand. While listening to Terry Pratchett's stories about witches of course.

But in better news, my article has at long last been published!

Happy author

And since the wonderful place I work for have this incentive to write articles, I will get a nice bonus for it by the end of the year. Obviously it works, because I plan to write another one now, to another and even more famous journal (more money!). Of course I've forgotten everything about long harrowing evenings of lonely writing...

Also I've finished teaching for this semester - now only I only have to make the exams, correct the exams, prepare the oral exams and hold the oral exams. And scare calm the panicking students of course.

I am indeed back. And did you know that there is a limit to how many entries you can skip backwards? It's 1000 if you wondered. But hey, I'm back from Morocco, which is, in my experiences, a lush green country with nice people, yoghurt that give you diarrhoea and badly placed street signs that attack you out of the blue (or red since it was Marrakesh) and make your head bleed a lot. Also I get height-sick.

Has anyone gotten any postcards yet? The post-office in the Medina was under refurbishment, so I'm not sure the post box I stuffed my cards into, is actually working...

Sadly, even though I went away, my work didn't, so I've been cooped up in a backlog of administrative trivialities and papers that need to be graded. But pictures of the lush and green country are forthcoming. Eventually.

Home again. The weekend didn't turn out quite as expected. The concert/jam-session thing on Thursday was cancelled since great/grand/father of half of the band died earlier in the week. Friday I woke up with an itch in my throat, and went back to bed just after breakfast and spent the next two days in bed with wildly fluctuating fever. Happily my cousin was nice enough to procure a copy of HP7 for me, so I actually spend that day in bed with fever and Harry Potter. ( As for Harry Potter... )

Well, almost done doing things to my Faroe Island pictures, so picture post coming soon. I hope...

Have had a ungood couple of weeks, with one of my rounds of apathy. I have had absolutely no interest in anything, just want to sleep or read things that don't nudge my brain, just medicate myself on masses and masses of words streaming past my brain, not having to care about anything or anyone letting fictional persons do the caring for me.

It would certainly have been better if this last week hadn't been my week off, because now I have spent my precious week off, with good weather too, in bed - or occasionally on the sofa - reading, napping, doing nothing. It's annoying, but since I had absolutely no obligations and a lot of my friends was away this week, I wasn't even forced to kick myself out of bed to go to work or be social and that other stuff that usually makes the apathy pass faster.

I thank God/genetics/brain chemistry/my mental health/upbringing/whomever/whatever that I only gets these total-apathy attacks (can apathy attack? isn't that against its nature?) once a year.

And now my room really needs to be cleaned, my plants needs to be repotted, friends, family and business associates need to be called/emailed/texted and I need to eat something that isn't a sandwich.

Spring has attacked. Suddenly, and mostly pleasantly, with a lovely sun shining and flowers folding out everywhere. As usual when this happens I go down with migraine, great fun. While everybody is out cavorting in the sun I am longing for cold and darkness. I am weird.

So, since my brain is rather incapable of thinking and processing much, I will do a meme, as I was tagged by andraax some time ago about 6 weird habits I have. Just tagged I discussed habits with my co-worker H., because I swore I didn't have any weird habit, she snorted.

So in no special order;

1. When I buy candy in loose weight I always count them, picking odd, preferably prime, numbers.

2. I prefer to be seated on the right hand side in an auditorium, cinema, theatre, bus, plane, sofa, in fact anywhere where there is sitting involved I prefer the right hand side. The same goes for beds. All right, that isn't that uncommon...

3. I can spend a long time watching my alphabetically organised bookshelves pondering whether the books enjoy their company, meaning that the writers of the books would have liked each others if they met in real life. I have also tried to organise them by grouping together the books of writers I thought would get along, but I kept reordering them again and again, so I went back the good old alphabetic system.

4. My clothes are organised by colour, with the hangers pointing inwards. Whereas the first one is just for practicality, hangers the wrong way really bugs me, and even more so if they are in both directions, then chances are I will spend some time, hopefully discretely, organise your wardrobe my way.

5. I iron my sheets.

6. I always read a couple of pages of a book in bed before going to sleep - yes, even when I am pissed - and I always put my books down in the middle of a sentence. If I stop on a chapter break I find it more difficult to go asleep.

Yep, weird.

One of the bad things with living so close to other people is that chances are, if one cathes a cold, so will the rest of us. Last week Frank and Per were ill, now it is my turn. If it wasn't for the fact that I work in a rather physical -and outdoors- job I'd probably been fit wnough to go to work. But as it is I don't feel quite fit enough to go to work, all that moving around and operating machinery drugged and feeling faint and dizzy with a headache and the everpresent, romantic runny nose, nah. Not a good idea. So here I am propped up in bed trying to cure my cold with insane amounts of tea and MacGyver.

I though I was illll enough for several years last year. Blargh.

Right, it's ten past six in the morning, I'm starting the job at the cemetery in less than an hour. I feel like crap, I haven't slept well, had trouble falling asleep and woke up several times, at 3 o'clock I woke of from period cramps, I fell out of bed trying to locate some painkillers, of course these took ages to work so at a quarter past four I gave up and got up. I am still waiting for the painkillers to start working while trying to force down some food so I can eat more painkillers. A great way to start a new job, new month...

Death by chocolate
Despite the cheerful opening I kind of really, really queasy just now. Of course, that is entirely my own fault since I've been force feeding myself with chocolate all day. Why am I forcing chocolate down my throat you may ask. Well, today is the last day of my Easter holiday and also the last day of the self-given moratorium on my diet (14 kilos down since August -go me!), so I have to eat all the chocolate I've acquired this Easter before going to bed, because I can't give it away - or even worse - throw it away! So death by chocolate it is.

Easter
Aside too much chocolate from that I've had a nice Easter, spent most of it at the country house, and most of that time I spent outdoors, walking around in the woods (which you can see wonderfully crappy pictures of in my gallery, aptly names Easter pictures), discovering new paths. We found the heller (not a cave, just a sort of small cave-in with overhanging stone) where my grand uncle practises outdoors-life before he's off hunting in the autumn, and luckily for us we also found his fireplace and after some hunting, the kettle and secret stash of coffee. Outdoors life can be fun! And even better when there's food waiting for us when we come home. And quiet evenings with books, quizzes and murder mysteries on the telly.

Seasonal vocabulary
The weather has been lovely, after a rather cold start of March these last days have been lovely, clear blue sky and sunshine. Norwegians, as usual, run outside, throw off their clothes and stand an hour in line for the first ice cream of the year. Yesterday I saw two young men walking around in shorts and t-shirts, it may be sun, but it's only 10°C! Once you step out of the sun it's suddenly not that warm anymore, and knowing the nature of the local weather we may still have some snow. It's not so much spring as it's pre-spring, forvår.

This is a word I have gotten from sovevuni who told me about the Polish word przedwiosnie. I though it odd that we don't have a word like that in Norwegian, after all we start talking about "spring" in February, but we can't be sure that it's just toying with us until early May. We have words for early summer, Midsummer, late summer, late autumn and late winter, but for spring we only have one word - vår - and whenever we dare to utter that word it starts snowing or sleeting. So, from this moment forvår means the period of the year when we all want it to be spring, but it's not - it's only sleet with hope.

All in all I feel pretty happy: Nice weather, Operation New friends (which I will tell more about later) is going along fine, sun's shining (well, it was until it went down), , love (or flirting at least) is in the air and I have almost finished all the chocolate in the house. But I'd really like something salt and savoury now...

Has anyony invented some sort of medicine that actually helps against pre-menstrual moodswings? I need some bottles, now. I've been feeling grouchy and unloved all day, and ended up leaving work. If I hadn't I would have chewed my coworker Kenneth's head off. And since I can't be angry at those who don't deserve it, I turn the anger invards, which leads to tension headaches and general grumpyness, occasionally followed with violent tendencies. The cure that I usually employ is - unsurprinsingly - a workout, and that is out of the question. I really need to schedule yet another talk with the doctor, this can't go on.

Deep cleansing breath.

I'm longing for a café au lait, but all I've got is this crappy instant coffee with skimmed milk. It's really not the same. I had this plan this morning, to leave the house early and drop by the café that's open at 730 not far from work where they serve decent coffee, but nooo, I was waylaid first by a fluffy, warm and snugly duvet, then by a book (I have the habit of reading a couple of pages while waking up) and finally by a grouchy back.

My back has been giving me quite a lot of pain recently. According to the doctor I'm not allowed any decent workout or alcohol until February. The alcohol I can live without, but my body needs the exercise. Without exercise my back gets stiff - especially now that I've got a job where I do naught but sit - I'm prone to stress headaches and my period cramps (scheduled for Thursday) are incapacitating.

On the other hand I understand what my doctor is talking about, although I've gotten better these last weeks I'm in no way recovered. While normal walking on flat ground is all right for periods of time anything else is terribly heavy work. Last week I stood and talked to a colleague for some minutes, and then I started sweating like a marathon runner and felt faint, and just had to sit down. That was frightening. But that doesn't help the fact that if I don't get some decent exercise soon I'll be eating pain medication like candy, and that isn't particularly healthy either.

It has come to my attention that there has been a lot of birthdays celebrated while I have been preoccupied with myself, so as a belated birthday gift to you all you can click here and listen to a lovely rendering of the traditional Norwegian birthday song (text and translation) sung by Olga Marie Michalsen, Florence Foster Jenkins' Norwegian understudy.

Enough with the philanthropy;
The boss called me this morning asking me how long I was on sick leave for, because if I wasn't back next week they would need a temp to do my job until I was back. I sincerely hope I'll be back next week I told her, because by then I'll probably be going mad if I am to stay at home, yellow-tinted or not.

While I was lying in bed this weekend Sigrid and Camilla was out drinking and making connections, and so they got invited to the premiere of the opera Eugen Onegin and the premiere party afterwards on Wednesday, and nice as they are asked if I wanted to come too. And I was planning on going anyway. Yay! I love my flatmates! Now I only have to find something to wear.

A big thank you to everyone for your well wishes, the chicken soup and the chicken in the soup, sick-book recommendations, everything. It really warms my heart.


I am slowly getting better, I'm not as tired as before and the fever isn't so bad any more, most of the time it's below 38,0°C. The liver is bad though, a not uncommon complication, so I'm turning faintly yellow. Gah, and I'm so vain, because for some reason it is the one thing that's been bugging me the most. (Aside from being unable to sleep on the left side since my spleen hurts and the right because the liver hurts (or vice versa).)

I've also entertaining myself with looking up mononucleosis/glandular fever on the internet. Whereas the sites mostly contain the same information the weight they put on it is quite different. All the Norwegian sites says that an enlargement to the liver is quite usual, but all the sites in English says it's a rarer symptom. All the English sites then tell me that it's a good idea to take paracetamol for the fever, but the Norwegians strongly discourages it since paracetamol strains the liver in some way. My doctor even called me back to tell me "for God's sake, no paracetamol and no alcohol!"

What is even more amusing is that there's some kind of bacteria causing diarrhoea in the drinking water basin, so we've been asked to boil all the drinking water. People are getting hysterical. As I was sitting in the doctor's office waiting for some more test results and a to get my sick leave extended, this hysterical women came in and said I've had diarrhoea for four weeks now! I must get to the doctor immediately! It's that water bacteria, I know it. She was told by the nurse at the counter that sorry, it was not possible to get to a doctor now, she might sit down and wait for a couple of hours, or she might try the emergency room. The woman continued to cry that she was seriously ill and needed a doctor now!

Honestly, I thought by myself, if you've had real diarrhoea for four weeks you are either very near dead or dead already, or it's not that serious. Uncomfortable, certainly. Serious, no.

Also, if you wonder what the strange triangle is, that is the corner of the ceiling just above my bed. The one I've been studying for the last few weeks. Instead of plaster decorations in the ceiling as is normal in flats from this age and standard, the ceilings in the sitting rooms has been painted with various flowers, vines and borders. It's striking, and I really would like to see how it would look of they got them restored, because the colours have faded over the years. Ah, sigh, if only I was rich I'd buy this flat and restore it.

And lastly, a note to the Norwegian readers of my journal (who seem to care as much about football as I do)
Byen e' Bergen, og laget e' Brann!
Stedet e' Stadion, så søng alle mann:
Brann! Brann! Bra-a-a-ann!
Heia Brann!

And for the unNorwegians, my local football team, Brann, won the cup earlier today - first time in 22 years, totally squashing the other team Lyn. I don't care much about football, but today I feel a little proud - and patriotic. I even saw the scorings. Heia Brann!

Yes, I called the doctor's office yesterday and got an appointment 20 minutes later.

Good news: Funny lung infection is responding well to antibiotics (which means that my lungs are getting better fast). I'm feeling slightly better, I only have to lie down half an hour or so after doing something taxing, like eating breakfast or getting the newspaper.

Bad news: Lung infection was only a part of the problem it seems. My liver is ill, my tonsils are ill, lymph glands are the size of footballs. Fatigue, fever... All that are symptoms of mononucleosis. So, I took yet another battery of tests that I'll get results of tomorrow. Yay.

Also, according to the doctor I had a bad, sickly, drawn and pale tone of skin. Hello! I know I'm sick, no reason to remind me! And who goes through their whole skin care regimen when they're ill? Grumble.

Also, The Usanians have voted for their president, who are all these people who vote for Bush anyway? I mean they seem to be in majority, but I don't think I know any - do I?

I think the fever has fried the reality check lobe in my brain. My dreams are odder than normal and when I think I don't seem to be able to control whatever I am consciously thinking, by that I mean thinking actively, putting in words. Usually I'm really controlled person (although I rarely come across like that), but now the control function is off. It's slightly worrisome, but mostly amusing, and perhaps what the teacher of my story-telling course wants us me to do.

Last Monday for instance, I suddenly found myself explaining in great detail to my co-workers how this small band on the coast of Møre was using us to launder money (the main point was enrolling non-existing children in the band association). Also, when I called to cancel my Greek lessons yesterday (and to much gloating from my students We said you were sick, na-na-na) suddenly I was certain I was actually teaching Air Guitar, I even had a lesson prepared. But then I had this fun dream going to Brussels visiting bellisa and seeing the perfect copy of the city that her mother and father had made of the city in chocolate. And not just the city centre, but the whole city, pretty amazing. Since that I've had an intense longing for Belgian chocolate.

Now well, I am a bit worried, I don't seem to have gotten noticeably much better, though my tonsils now are the size of fists and not children's heads and I breathe a bit more easily now. Although that may be due to the fact that I haven't done anything these last few days except lie in bed, lie on the sofa, get more water and change video-cassettes. I'd better call my doctor's office tomorrow.

The weirdest thing is that people say they envy me, because I can spend tomorrow watching the the results from the Usanian election ticking in. Someone need their priorities checked. Not being able to breathe properly, having the change sheets twice every night and only politics on the telly - not fun, damnit!

And for once, snitched from niora; a link to cute animals.
Of course, since I'm not nice and stuff; Romans ate these (or a near relative), food!

I didn't feel much better today so I shuffled to the doctor. He thought I looked all right (which I do) until he realised that those nice rosy cheeks was fever, not healthy girl coming in from a brisk walk in autumn weather. Then I was whisked away for blood tests, I have some kind of bacterial infection, quite possibly pneumonia, since I have problems breathing when I do things, like walk up and down the stairs to get the paper.

So, I'm supposed to hang around the house until next Tuesday- November 6th! And I have a check up appointment on Tuesday to check the progression. Yay? At least for the first time in my life I get to look beautiful when I'm sick :) hence the title

So, I must plan for my sick-bed, buy food that's easy to prepare and borrow lots of fun and enjoyable books. Any recommendations?

Sorry about my disappearance these last few days, I've been sick. (Not that you would know the difference between any of my disappearances anyway.) I've been sick, and not the normal type sick either. Usually when I am sick it's some variation of the flu, stuffy and snotty nose, sore throat with lots of strange phlegm and a cough that can wake the dead, usually wake the neighbours and keep me awake all night.

This time has been different, no stuff running from my eyes, nose or mouth, no cough just high fever (40°C+) and me sweating though my bed sheets. I think I hit some kind of top last night, I don't think I have ever sweated that much. At midnight I had to change the sheets (again!), at five am in the morning I had sweated through my down comforter and the top most mattress was soaked, let's not talk about the pillow. I totally understand why they cut the hair of fever patients back in the days. Yuk. But I woke up this morning feeling better than I've felt all week (not that that is saying much), I wanted food and I had the concentration to read, both good signs if you are me. Still running a slight fever though (38°), and I am a bit ambivalent whether I'll be going to work tomorrow. We'll see I guess.

For the last week I've been waiting for a headache to hit, and Thursday morning, on my way to work it came. I was sitting on my bike rolling down a hill when I realised that I was sweating, feeling nauseous and I couldn't see anything, only light and sound crashing into my brain. So there was nothing else to do than to crash my bike into a fence and try and hail a taxi home hoping I'd hit the bed when I fell.

So I slept through Thursday, spending Friday and Saturday doing nothing much - sleeping, drinking tea and munching pain-killers. Reading, listening to radio or watching telly makes the headache worse, and since I haven't quite figured out what people do when they don't do either (or all) of these, doing nothing is what I did.

So, whining completed. I feel better today, I look fetching in sunglasses and I'll be back at work tomorrow. My last week! Wah.

Oh, and Hilde called me yesterday - on the world crappiest line - from Hebron. We talked for twenty minutes. Half of the conversation consisted of yelled Huh?!s and the other of listening to the echo of my own voice. Well spent money. She's urging me to apply for various positions in the UN. Because UN really needs more landscaper-academics who master dead languages. ... I'm good at bossing people around, though.