Working the nightshift, subtitle The art of procrastination.

For the second week in three I find myself working the graveyard shift. 11.30 at night to 6.15 the next morning. Delightful. Being awake at such unearthly hours combined with the slow progress of the work on this shift (while the management fat cats sleep, the mice well ... er, don’t do much at all really) causes the mind to wander in some interesting directions. Last night I found myself pondering if my subconscious voice, the thoughts in my head would remain to be English. When, if ever will I start to have thoughts in Swedish? I know the little rascal swears in Swedish as I have caught him, but other than that no other changes have taken place. And another thing to consider if I do start thinking in Swedish, will I be able to understand myself...