Go, Going, Gone

I’m not ready to go to London. I usually get like this when something is about to happen, no matter the size of the event. For instance when I was leaving Oslo to go to the tripple birthday party yesterday, I really didn’t feel like going. But it turned out to be good fun. It usually does.

So why can’t I convince myself that I want to go to London? A shrink could probably tell me this for about $100 an hour. I’ll do some self-analysis instead, it’s much cheaper, and it usually works.

What was really good about yesterday was that I didn’t have to give away my phone to keep me from sending drunken SMS messages and call Stine. I still think a lot about the girl, and I do have my ups and downs, but there are more ups than downs.


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