Erik is one of my favorite guys on Svalbard, but his computer is a big pain in the butt. Keeps freezing all the time, especially after I've written a loooooong e-mail to someone but not sent it off yet, or even a witty little blog post. And the screen, oh man, if it's on for more than one hour it starts flashing in weird colors and emitting scary, threatening sounds.

So, what have I achieved today?

Managed to keep the alarm on my mobile peeping at me with 6 min. intervals for 2 hours. Now beat that! I consider this a remarkable proof of the patience I've been training on for the last... 14 days and 3 hours. Everyone else would have already flushed that stubborn little monster down the toilet (or, if they were the mobile monster itself, flushed me down the toilet). After that I got up and dressed, had some cornflakes and read every word in our gorgeous little local newspaper Svalbardposten. Made it to our modest little version of Harrod's (original name, Svalbardbuttikken) where I went straight to the outdoors section (another original name; Arctica) to stare with hungry eyes at all the fancy outdoors equipment that my heart longs for: Therma-A-Rest mattress, a new multi-fuel stove, windblock fleece... ah, it's like a candy store for me.

Went home exhausted after all the longing and threw myself on my mattress, still with my shoes on (which makes me what the Israeli would call a hrapash). Slept like a baby until my dearest Helen called, and went to see her at the very fashionable Barista coffee shop. There we sat in indescribable boredom-doing-nothingness until we got too bored and decided to move to Kroa to continue the indescribable boredom-doing-nothingness there. Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day. I am vegetating.

Ó já, let's not forget the heatwave. We've had plus-degrees for a week now. PLUS. I'm not sure you guys realize what this means. I'm writing you from 78 degrees north. It's the high Arctic, and it's not supposed to be summer here yet. Poor polar bears. Poor seals. Lucky little penguins, to be down in the cold Antarctic (did you know that at everything above zero degrees a penguin will lie flat down, spread it's wings and pant??). Poor us, wading the slush and dropping our scooters into melting rivers. Hver er eiginlega meiningin med thessu?!?!