Viva Las Vague-Arse

So named for the vague recollections of arse that people stumble away from it with.

I fly to the states tomoz morning, likely won't be interacting much with the internets until I get back in September. Seeyas then.. literally for Mum and Dad, and Jo and Jeremy, who are all coming to Umeå in September. Yay, visitors!

Gonna hit Norway again with J&J, and hopefully go for a flight over the fjords in the plane Guro's dad made (after seeing his work with the viking helmet, I'll trust his plane).

In preparation the arrival of my visitors, I toiled for hours and brought my apartment its cleanest state since I moved in: mopped the floors, spray'n'wiped the wallpaper, finally got the cheese stains off the kettle (don't ask). It's a beautiful sight!

So, laterz. For now I'll leave y'all with this question: why don't they make the white lines on a tennis court out of velcro? Surely it would mean the end of "line-ball-call" disputes. Is the powerful linesman union deliberately holding these developments back, electric-car style? There are so many unanswered questions here.