thursday
Thursday. I slept.
Phone in the drawer, lay down at half four this morning, and woke at two in the afternoon with the room exactly the same blue as when I closed my eyes. Nine hours. The first real sleep since before Christmas. My head feels rinsed.
If anyone knocked, I didn't hear it. The chart says nobody did, and I've decided to believe the chart.
Two days of post in the box downstairs, so the postman must have skipped yesterday. A bank statement and a card from Hege with a drawing of a sun on it.
Did forty pages this evening. 571. The grandmother's funeral. Ragnhild has her buried in a snowstorm, and I've been trying for an hour to get the English to be as cold as the Norwegian.
Four days.
The oven clock is still blinking 00:00. I've got used to it. It's company.