It's All About the Trains

I am learning that trains are dangerous. I grew up in a country with no trains, and now I am here, in Wales, and there are trains everywhere. It can be pretty nice. But like I said, trains can be dangerous too, especially the thought trains (in other words: my train of thought).

The dangers stems from the tendency they have to take me places I didn't really want to go.

Example 1:

This morning J had left for school and I was cleaning our bedroom. Sometimes I feel a bit weird making J listen to my Icelandic radio (firstly because its all in icelandic, secondly because the music I listen to on my icelandic radio is not exactly metal core, which is what J listens to) so I try to get in as much FM597.is as I can while he's gone. 

So here's me blasting Icelandic radio while doing laundry and my brain jumps on a train

"I wonder if my neighbors can hear the music... I hope it doesn't bother them.... doesn't really matter, I live in the Ghetto, we are all foreigners and unemployed people here.... or are we?... I wonder if this is what Polish people feel like in Iceland... wait.... there's lots of polish people in Iceland... how many Icelanders do you think like here in south Wales?... I bet I am a totally new and different breed here... I am nothing like the polish people in Iceland................... that was a bit racist"

On a different note.

Here is some advice I can now give because I know from experience.

Don't tickle someones bum unless you are absolutely sure they are unable to kick you in the head.

Thanks to my lovely husband and his cute bum (and me tickling it) I now have a nice bump on my head.

I hope you have a nice day.