Most of the upstairs of our house has a wood-patterned linoleum flooring, and strange as it sounds, it actually looks fairly nice. That is, it would look nice, if I could ever get it clean. In order to make it look as wood-like as possible, there are deep indentations every six inches, between the “boards,” and there are also whorls and grooves meant to simulate woodgrain and knots. I’ll admit that it’s a nice little artistic touch, in theory, but in practice it has become the bane of this housewife’s existence. Dirt and grime gets packed so tightly into those little spaces that no amount of scrubbing and scouring will get it out. Whenever anyone comes over I feel compelled to point out that I do mop, and reasonably often, but one look at these floors makes me look like a liar (and a not-very-good one at that).

I’m feeling sort of blah lately, and I’m sure it’s due in part to the gloomy weather we’ve been having for the past several days. It’s been overcast and windy and rainy and downright cold for the better part of a week. To my credit, I’ve been out walking in it every day, but the walks aren’t exactly pleasure walks. I’m ready for summer (or spring, at the very least). Lydia’s school is having a grill-party in the park tomorrow, and they’re having the finals for the Småstjärnorna contest there, too. I’d add “weather permitting” to that last sentence, but I don’t think it’s a concept that most Swedes are familiar with. Since I moved to Sweden I don’t think I’ve seen any event canceled or changed or postponed on account of weather. I’m all for toughing it out, but there’s something to be said for knowing one’s limitations as well.