People congratulate me on our new president wherever I go. But everyone expresses generalized worry about the global economy. There's a window display in the hair salon down the street: that place has always had politically-oriented art installations in the window. This time it's a decrepit clapboard shanty with a sign on it that says "For rent. White House. Term of lease: four to eight years." Oooh boy. That must have been the pre-election display: looks as though they're preparing a new one now. And poor Obama certainly has high expectations heaped on him. I was talking to an old family friend, Kirsten, who remarked: "Well, the U.S. just really needs nationalized health care. But it'll be all right: Barack Obama will be taking care of that, I'm sure." Hope he's got plenty of pixie dust!
Anyway, much running around Copenhagen, and then much lolling about on the couch in the evenings. That's what I've been up to. Which works for me. I'm trying not to think about the work e-mail that's probably piling up... and the training sessions I'm missing... yikes! Yes, definitely trying not to think about that.
And where are the pictures? Nowhere! I forgot my digital camera at home. So I'm taking pictures on a piece of ancient photographic equipment called a Disposable Camera. I keep holding it out in front of me instead of peering through the little hole. And remember the quaint old business of actually winding film forward? Click-click-click!
Headed for Tivoli tonight. Hurrah! Maybe I'll take a nap first. Nothing like living the life of Riley. Or the life of Larsen. Whatever. Nothing like it.