The sun is playing hide-and-seek today. I don’t want to be at work. I want to go play, go shopping, go sit on a blanket in the grass and read a book. I want to plant something in my garden. I want to sit on a swing in a playground and sing to the sky.
Anders is gone again tonight for work…I think he said he was going to be at some castle that hosts conferences. I’ve always wanted to live in a castle. Just a little one, not a big, old drafty one. I wanted to be Cassandra Mortmain. When we moved to Belgium, we lived in a hotel for a few months while my parents were house-hunting. Somewhere nearby there was a little house that looked like a castle, complete with moat. A little fairy castle. I can’t remember if it was ever a possibility, house-wise, but it sure would have been lovely.
When Anders and I decided to build a house instead of buy one, all the house models I liked best had round tower sections somewhere and gabley-pointy roofs. I was firmly squashed by my Swede, however. Someone in Anders’ family, way back when, actually owned a castle. She married the man who owned Glimmingehus, way back in like the 14th century or something. There’s even a plaque with her name on it inside the door of the main building. We visited the castle on one of my first trips to Sweden, but for some reason, haven’t made it back again. They host some sort of Medieval Festival in late summer and they have ghost stories in October. What a bummer it’s not still in the family so I could fulfill my princess fantasies.