My mailbox is nice to me!

The past few days my mailbox has been very nice to me. That's the way I choose to percieve it anyway. You could argue that it's me that's been nice to me, since I have paid for this stuff after all. But that doesn't sound as fun as having a nice, giving, loving mailbox. To quote the great Adam Savage -

I reject your reality and substitute my own.

Yesterday I got my tickets for the "intimate" DM-show in Horsens, Denmark. Boy, those danes are fast - I only bought the tickets on Monday. Getting quite a collection of these tickets now, and my paranoia and concern for their safety grows exponentially each time I get some in the mail. What if I have a break-in? Or a fire? Maybe I should get a safe? Nah, too expensive. Put them in dad's safe? No, that would only lead to questions like: "What?! Are you going to all these concerts?! How much did all this cost?!" Not tempting. I'll take my chances and keep them at home, out of reach from my dog. My mailbox did also provide me with another few records for my collection - The Singles 81-85, and the Stripped single. These are almost as precious as the tickets, mind.

My mailbox have to be in a good mood, because today it provided me with two more packages. Both contained shipments of yarn from the US. Finally I can start knitting the mohawk hat with the yarn I'm supposed to use! I'll make two black ones to start with, one for me and one for a fellow Depechist girl friend of mine. And, if I can be bothered, I'll make a black and grey version of the hat seen on the cover - which requires a whole pile of intarsia knitting. Which I hate. time will show. The white and blue slightly furry mohair-yarn is intended for a stripey, comfy sweater which is supposedly very easy to make. We'll see about that, too. With all of this lying in my living room waiting for me, they sort of dictate my weekend activities. Seeing as I have yet to celebrate my birthday properly, I will, however, consume at least one bottle of wine tonight, be it alone or with some classmates (or maybe even the beforementioned Depechist, if she can come, yay.)

My dog, however, doesn't give a flying f*** about knitting, records or my birthday. All is well in her world as long as she gets to kill my Chtulu Plushie. Having a dogs life does seem tempting sometimes...