Sick bay

My home looks like a bag of lemons has exploded in it. There are yellow pieces of lemon everywhere - nice round slices juicy cubes small wedges and especially lemon seeds all over the place. The lemon is going everywhere - in my tea, my water and my pizza. At least I can try to imagine it will make this stinging pain in my throat go away. I have emptied my medicine bag (which needed sorting out anyway, you never know what you'll fine inside it - cough tablets from 1997 or perhaps a used razor blade) and have a variety of pills and powders decorating my room.

My table is a mess. Harp music my teacher lent me to go through and see what I'd like to play. Post-its filled with scribbled calculations on my financing strategy for the summer (not a very fool-proof strategy). Mikko Heiniö's haunting "Luceat" for mixed choir, open at the place where not one chord seems to be easy to tune. A broken cup I got as a present two days ago, lying next to a tube of superglue with which I have successfully reattached the handle. A wonderful recording of Mozart's "Cosi fan tutte" I was listening to earlier.

My iPod. A withered white rose I got from my singers two weeks ago. The vase has no more water in it. The newest issue of the Sulasol magazine, an important newsletter on the latest happenings in the choir world. My best friend's picture inside a ball on the front page with his quote: "Choral singing is hip!". Him telling me to shut up when I tease him through messenger. Emails from my cousins in Ecuador and Germany on my laptop screen, part of coordinating the next big family event in October.

My address book. I have just crossed out two addresses - one in Lauttasaari and one in Töölö, and added new ones in Kruununhaka. Someone completely new has been also added. How many people use an address book anymore? A bag full of things my parents brought from their weekend in France (mostly chocolate from the duty free). A blue IKEA bag full of dirty laundry. An unidentified pile of important papers and music - must go through that tomorrow morning.

My bed, with clean sheets. A framed poster of Madama Butterfly above it. A plant I haven't watered in months but it's still going strong. An open window, a late tram rattles by on Helsinginkatu. Capris is still open and some people are hanging out on the other side of the street. A city quickly waking up to the idea of the summer. The moon, shining down on millions of people in cities deserts jungles ships mountains towns tents. My flatmate preparing popcorn and sitting down to watch ice hockey. Me pressing PUBLISH POST and cutting another lemon in half.