I start Day 4 late, only getting up around eleven after lounging around in bed for a while, and don’t get much more active for quite a while after that. It’s sunny and still too cold for swimming, and there doesn’t seem to be much to do – the forest is small enough to get boring quickly, and yesterday’s tick infestation has lessened its appeal further.
D reads to me for a while (Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s Der Verdacht, which I read when I was seventeen, but have forgotten most of since), both of us comfortably lying around on the couch, then I discover tickling him is more fun. Tickling turns into play-fighting, which takes us outside onto the porch. D shows me some MMA holds, mostly interested in whether I can effectively use them against him despite our very different fighting strength – the results are mixed. (I can use them to the point that he feels I’m using them, but not to the point it’s actually giving him trouble.) In return, I show him how to do the simplest form of the Tesoura. Since I’m already out and about and moving, I also practice handstands for a bit. D tries as well, but has balancing trouble even against the wall for some reason. (Which I find pretty interesting and mysterious – it’s not as if he lacked the upper body strength to keep himself upright.)
My brain seems to have finally gotten used to the new routine, or maybe I’ve only now caught up on all missed sleep. In any case, I feel more motivated to do things today, so I take D up on his offer to let me practice driving. I do pretty well, I think, although I manage to kill the engine a few times – his gear shift is one of the kind that look like a stick poking out of a bag rather than one with a plastic cover and clearly marked gears, and I accidentally put it into the third rather than the first gear quite a few times. It also lacks a parking assist system – fortunately for the car, I only have to park in the driveway.
In the evening, we plant ourselves on the couch again and browse the borrowed movie hard drive to find something we can both agree on. The selection doesn’t really suit either of us, but eventually we settle on Predator because I’ve never seen it before and it came up in our modified question game on the way up here.
I declare Arnold Schwarzenegger’s muscles unreasonable about ten minutes in (and am completely right to do so), and then we spend a decently enjoyable evening watching him battle mostly-invisible dreadlock aliens in a jungle before we go to bed.
Day 5 brings incessant rain, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. I drive us to the grocery store and back, although D takes over the parking. (Other shoppers are annoyed at having to wait for us to swap seats, but I figure they’d be much more annoyed by me struggling to do anything and quite possibly bumping some cars in the process.)
Then I huddle in front of my PC in my hoodie and don’t move much for the rest of the day. It’s cold and gloomy inside, and cold, gloomy and wet outside, and it’s hard to believe that back home the sun rules mercilessly, blinding and burning everyone in its path.
I look up how to get back, comparing buses and flights from Malmö and Stockholm on various days regarding duration and prices. Flights are much shorter, of course, and not even much more expensive in some cases, but I think I’d really rather spend 19 hours in a bus than save myself fourteen or so of those at the expense of the environment. It’s not like the climate needs more fucking up.
My search remains inconclusive until the evening, when it’s movie time again. We look up movie titles we don’t know and take turns vetoing pretty much all of them. I discover that I know the sequel to Pitch Black, but not the movie itself – I don’t remember much about the sequel either, but it’s enough to get curious, so we spend this evening watching Vin Diesel (who has much more reasonable muscles than Arnold Schwarzenegger) battle strange reptilian monsters on a planet with inexplicably Earth-like atmosphere and gravity. D seems to enjoy it about as decently as he did Predator yesterday, I kink hard on Riddick’s eyes as soon as they appear and spend the rest of the movie quietly lusting after him, half-amused and half-fascinated by my own strong preference for slightly inhuman/transhuman aesthetics*.
* also him in general. Reading through the quotes page right now and damn, that is exactly my kind of asshole character.