Monday 6 September 1999
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Pic of the day: The small railroad station near where I spend my mini
vacation.
First day of The Real Vacation: I'm now staying in the home where
my best friend and her family live.
Yay! How could I see her open the door and not feel my heart melt, then
sizzle like bacon fat dripping down on the barbeque coals, then burst
into flame? OK, OK, a little hype there. But it did grow a bit soft.
As usual, I was in town well before the train was bound to leave. I looked for a good book to read on the train, but found none, neither were there any magazines of interest. Luckily I still had a mostly unread New Scientist. Oh, and a computer. The next thing that happened was that I checked my tickets and found them not. I knew exactly where I had put them. Then again, they were not there, and I had taken them up this same morning to check the departure time. The travel time of this express train is a bit less than I'm used to. There are several new departures from this fall on, and they are spaced differently. Anyway, I looked again for my tickets. And again. They were not to be found. Not fun: 20 minutes to departure. Gack. No way I could get back and fetch them - especially since I did not know where I had put it. I sat down and sifted through my travel bag once more. And there were the tickets, inside some other papers. Wheee! We had to take bus from Kongsberg to Oslo because they are fixing the track. All the plain crossings where people are run over by trains and killed. These crossings will be changed to go under the track, so the trains can run full speed without running over cars and such. Sounds like a good idea.
And then I was in Oslo. And then I came here. And now all is good.
Tonight we went to see the Matrix. Supergirl has seen it before, of course. (I still find this highly amusing.) I shivered through most of the film, probably because it was a really cool film. "There is no spoon!" Heh. I guess I've adopted another handy expression. In other news, I accidentally overwrote the memory location of my bank card PIN code in my brain. I guess this must have happened when I imprinted the PIN code for the credit card. Ack! I had to use the credit card in the minibank (automated teller machine for you outlanders). I had expected that my fingers would remember the code. No they didn't. *boggle* I did not even know this was possible. I've used this card for years. Now I don't even know for sure how the code begins. I sure hope McDonalds don't lie about using Norwegian beef in those burgers. As opposed to, say, British. |