It ljusglittrar from the city all the windows and balconies, the smells of hyacinth and the gingerbread and on the kitchen table, burning a candle with twenty-four strokes. But nothing says december as much as the internal exhaustion – there is a stable tradition. Candles, oatmeal and clapping in all the glory, but stressmörker, the weeping and the palpitations are just as safe companion during the month when the snow no longer falls (but the stock market, the mood, and the hope of a new government).
Because I am who I am – who isn’t it? – I am looking for something silly to giggle at the in order to combat dysterkvistheten and find… myself! I have just received a knäövningsprogram by a physiotherapist (that’s just how sizzling hot I am) and find myself in a place where I feel equally at home as a fish in a china shop: among frivikterna on a innerstadsgym.
Instruktionsteckning from Mr B’s physiotherapist. Photo: Mr B
träningsprogrammets streckteckningar, but how I try I can not keep the balance when the weights shall knixas over-the-head – without drattar at the end. On the way down (173 centimeters of free fall), I imagine how it looks and can’t help but smile: the weights weighs about two kilos, and the old man just fall.
once down on the svettmattan I realize that I haven’t had to fantasize about how silly it looks, something ogeneröst asshole has covered all their walls with mirrors. Hrmpff!
When I start a gym should I bet on medaljongtapeter. And länsstolar. And bar. As well as a popular pilates studio, which by the way should be named Pontius, and market themselves with: ”Jesus, what the healthy you looks! Suffered at Pontius Pilates?”
I visit with the physical therapist and ask him to demonstrate the exercises again. When he does that, I find it hard to keep good my. Balance drills would not be on a, but on the significantly more stable, two legs. Redress! A small light illuminates in the mood.
But so-so 24 hours later I’m back in decembersuret. After a black day, I leave the workplace in the company of an equally nedskavd colleague. I will think of a quote I read somewhere, and just remember the half: ”The one who is hard at work eight hours every day are rewarded sometimes with a job that requires twelve hours” and when we separated at the metro is there, despite the weather, to drag himself through thunder, hail, and drift-ice.
it is still there, yes to the end of the year is one at home and then… have you forgotten the wallet at work. It is just to defy the thunder, the hail, drift-ice and go back. To my great överraskaning I meet my colleague on the editorial staff – she has also forgotten his wallet. A torch lights up in the dark. We may be utschletna small klantskrutt this time of year, dear readers, but we are not alone.
