Tuesday, 8 AM:
My alarm goes off and by the view out my window it could be 2 AM or 5 AM. Feels like it, too. But no, it's six and time to get my ass out of bed. I bundle up against the cold of the room, even though I know it's going to be 21 degrees (70 degrees F) in a few hours and I'll just have to haul my sweatshirt around.
It's still dark an hour later, though at least then I have a couple of the first rosy fingers of dawn to keep me company as I stand out at the bus stop. By the time the sun finally rises, I'm on the train and on my way.
Just past the equinox, and this is what things look like? I'm so not looking forward to December. Then sunrise is at 9; sunset is at 4. While I'm at home I'll never see the sun. But right now it's sunny and gorgeous--and it's been rainless for more than a week. I would never expect that late September would be t-shirt weather in *Minnesota*, let alone Denmark.
Wednesday, 8 AM:
Okay, now it's pitch black dark and pouring rain. Lovely.
I'm wearing three layers and I've got gloves and an umbrella, but it's still not enough to keep me from shivering. I always underestimate these things. I should've brought a scarf. I should've gone with the winter coat instead of a sweatshirt. I should own a decent hat.
It is at these times that I am so aware of how un-hyggeligt my bedroom is, from the barren walls to the pathetically weak (but environmentally-friendly!) lights to the bathroom floor that never dries. But I don't feel financially capable of changing it, even via Ikea. What would I do with a standing lamp and rug and whatever else at the end of the semester, anyway? No way those're fitting in my luggage.
This is the kind of weather that makes you want to curl up into a little ball and die. Or become an existential philosopher. Pass the tea.