Last night I got a letter from the Skatteverket - Swedish tax office - you know, those guys with the super friendly forms. It's like a door has been slammed in my face. Against Team Sweden's advice I told the tax office that I would not be living in Sweden for at least a year. I figured it would be kind of like temporarily suspending my membership in the H&M Shopping Club or something. (Considering that every institution in Holland seems to still be under the illusion that I live there, I figured that extracting yourself from European society is quite difficult. I forgot about the firm and friendly efficiency of the Swedes). I opened the letter, which basically said 'Fine then, we've removed you from the register'. I was heartbroken - it's kind of weird, it was like the final proof that I've left, the final proof of the blindingly obvious fact I don't live there any more. I feel so terrible about it I almost want to ring them up and beg them to keep me on the list 'just in case'. There goes Calle's theory that I secretly work for the Swedish government as a propoganda machine.
Well Sweden, you may have rejected me, but I am still going to vote for The Ark on tonight's Eurovision contest and there is nothing you can do to stop me.
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