sorting sorting sorting sorting

...sorting sorting.

What am I sorting, you ask? (Or maybe you don't, but I'm going to hope that you would ask, what am I sorting.)

Stuff, is the answer.
I'm stewing a secret plan, of returning to my homecountry (ES-TO-NI-A!) for some time.
I've lived in London for 6 years (with the 7th currently running). Which is a lot of time. Nearly a fourth of my life.
Crazy.
Absolutely crazy.

So now with various things here and there, and A. being SO international, and all the sweethearts at home, et cetera, I've found myself actively thinking about this.

So therefore, because I am a HUMONGOUS chicken-pants (direct translation from Estonian), and by that I mean HUMONGOUS, I thought that actions could turn themselves into words. Since I'm too scared to actually say it and therefore make it official, I'm simply sorting through everything. My pre-step to moving.
But I think it's working.

And I'm having fairly significant amounts of fun with this. Finding old things, trying on all of my clothes to see what stays, what goes. Old posters, and other bits and pieces.
With Energy FM pumping great club-beatz at me. This is an Estonian radio station, and they are great.
http://www.energyfm.ee/ (go crazy. great tidying, sorting, workout-ing, whatever-ing music.)

Here's a picture of all the rings I found, none of which I wear, ever.
But much like the 5-year-old that I am, I put them all on at once and felt great about this situation.

My room was so lovely this morning. Alas, this sorting business has taken a little longer than I expected.
So now, my haven has been turned upside down.
Sigh.
Not to fear, tomorrow I will valiantly finish this quest!

Chicken is sorting. 
M.

dream

IN MY DREAM I HAD LIGHT PURPLE HAIR

and i also said the words "the cavalry is waiting"

And to A: "Do you not like core strength?"

We were in a car, driving around an Eastern European village, looking for McDonalds. We found the sign but turned out we had to pass through this backyard.
Some men were playing cards around a table. Old men, with golden chains, wearing white wifebeaters.
And we wanted to get through their backyard, to reach McDo.
But then we let some chickens out, and a rooster. and that was not meant to happen.
So, we apologised, profusely. And got all the chickens back. And the one rooster.
And some pirates came calling, as they do. they of course wanted to rape everyone, but we were way too hardcore.
and we were somewhere in...Azerbaijan? by this point. something along these lines.
in a village, in someone bungalow.
And then the cavalry arrived.
And I was topless the whole party, wearing hightop shorts, with purple hair.

And then I woke up - happy.
M.

nostalgia

I've found so many nostalgia-inducing articles lately. Pictures, old posts on old websites that I've forgotten, old cards, from old friends, messages.

Nostalgia.
Not a frequent visitor in my head and heart.
I know it fascinates A., but it's never really been my cup of tea.

And then in the last week I've been neck-deep in it.

Funny feeling, isn't it. Nostalgia.

It's cold outside today. M.