Right now, I am sitting in Andrew’s room in Coram, Long Island, New York. I arrived Friday night, and after a bumpy, unpleasant, possibly life-threatening ride home with JFK’s SuperShuttle service, I was finally, FINALLY, in his home, three and a half months months off schedule. After being wheeled through security and getting the “approved”-stamp, the security guard said, “Welcome back, ma’am”, and I sighed with relief, smiled, and responded, “Thank you, sir”. Thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you for having me — again and again. I could have cried just then, but my tears do come easily at the moment.

Sunday afternoon we went to the Botanic Garden. The weather was absolutely gorgeous, and it’s the first time I have ever taken Andrew there. As with everything else, I had wanted his first introduction to it to be during the summer, where all the trees and flowers are in bloom. With everything being dead and withered, there really was not much botanic about that garden, but I guess somebody decided we can’t have life and summer and happiness all year round.

Andrew was pretty excited about the gigantic greenhouse, which, I have to admit, IS pretty cool. And huge.

After our massively long walk (3,7 miles!) we went home and I wrote my Biology report. Five pages, baby, with awesome pictures and illustrations to boot. Let it be known that I hate Biology with a fiery passion. The same with Physics. The only science-y class that I can handle… sort of, is Chemistry, which I finished last year (and got a pretty bad grade). No hard feelings, Chemistry, I know now that the feelings weren’t mutual. Guess I had to learn it the hard and humiliating way in front of two teachers.

Andrew is going home on Monday, which is killing me little by little each day. I can’t wait till the day where we can be together all the time. I even dreamt about it last night. I dreamt that I decided to pack up and just go already, enough with all this dilly dally. I only brought a small bag, because I did not feel like I needed anything really. Just my heart, who happens to live in New York. I also dreamt that I was a member of a mob family. Any psychology majors willing to tell me what the EFF that means?

I have been working on this project that I am incredibly excited about. It is going to be so great, and I just have a good feeling in my stomach about it, like I was meant to do this. Get your excite on, I think you will like it!

Here is part deux in the tale of Sofie and Andrew’s day (and night) out on the town. We obviously lead very exciting lives.

The sour before the sweet; my doctor’s appointment, which was what landed us in the heart/center of the city in the first place. We got to the clinic forty minutes early and decided to hit the bakery next door, as the smell and look of Spring put us in a celebratory mood. And made us hungry.

Doctor’s appointment went fine; doctor was happy, so I was happy. I was then sent to the laboratory across town to have my blood sucked (have a blood test done), which I am so used to doing now that I did not mind. Except if it’s the finger needle; that shit hurts.

After this we were free to enjoy ourselves (and the beautiful weather). Life was good. We walked around for a couple of hours and the feeling of Spring made me feel like I never wanted to go home.

Andrew suggested that we go to Mama Rosa’s, and this time we actually ended up in the right place. Holy shit.

We finished our delicious dinner off with a delicious and a less than delicious dessert:

My dessert, which was just swell, served on a UFO-looking plate. Pretty sure Andrew was more than just a little bit jealous.

Andrew’s “cheesecake”, which we are both quite convinced was actually tiramisu. The waiter kept insisting otherwise (that conversation was pretty awkward), but you know what they say; if it looks, tastes, smells and has the same ingredients as tiramisu…

And that concludes the tale. Important lesson learned: If every fiber of your being thinks you are eating tiramisu, you are actually eating Italian cheesecake. Square Italian cheesecake.

Today is the last day of my winter vacation. Tomorrow everything will go back to normal, and the mornings will yet again be dark and cold, the days long and stressful. I find comfort in the fact that Spring is just ten days away, supposedly, and that the weeks until my next vacation can be counted on one hand. Can you tell that I am done?

This week I have three hand-in’s and I haven’t started any of them. I have been sick. Really sick. I have been inside most days and have missed out on some really beautiful weather. Tuesday was Valentines Day, and after going to the doctor my boyfriend and I went out to eat together. We had meant to go back to this Italian restaurant we have been to before (and loved), Mama Rosa, but mistakenly (all my fault) ended up in the neighboring restaurant. You might wonder how that could happen, and let me tell you, we felt pretty stupid. Just like that time where we got lost on a straight road. You see, Mama Rosa is a restaurant located on the corner of a pedestrian street. We found it and went to enter, when we saw a sign on the door which said “Please use the other entrance”. Hmm, hmm, shit just got complicated. Apparently there was another entry further down in a dark alley that we were somehow supposed to find, but instead we chose to do the logical thing IN MY OPINION which was to walk a little to the right of the main entrance and enter through the entrance that had an awning above it and a big neon sign that said “Mama Rosa”.

At no point did I consider the fact that we could possibly be in the wrong restaurant. The menu layout did not look the same, the place was much smaller, and there was a guy making sushi and cooking steaks in the middle of the room. In a supposed Italian restaurant. You would think that would have been enough clues, but no. I must have been in a sickly haze.

“Is this even the right restaurant”, my boyfriend asked after eating a plate of fettucini alfredo sans cheese sauce but with lots of curry and coriander. DUH. The worst part is that I would never have thought of this myself. My boyfriend is very smart, you see.

What a waste of his hard-earned Valentines cheddah.