Tonight, my wife and I had dinner at a sweet Italian restaurant in Uppsala, after an energetic show by Jonas Gardell, a Swedish comedian (and author and entertainer).

In the table next to us, there was a group of young girls getting ready for Friday night, giggling and chatting as only young girls can. All of a sudden, I saw a man lean against the window, trying to talk to the girls.

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March 28, 2008 is the 10th anniversary of my relationship with Stockholm, give or take a few years that I spent with my first love, Helsinki. Time flies. This is a shot I took today, I’m sure you can appreciate the beauty of Stockholm.

She’s still beautiful to me in that classy kind of way. She keeps surprising me, she brings me up when I’m down, and she carries me through the dark winter wrapped around in her silent strength and radiance that gives me hope of a better day. She makes me laugh, she makes me feel good about myself, she makes me proud, she makes me skip on the streets, and she gives me a sense of a purpose.

My wife, that is. She celebrates her birthday today, on Valentine’s Day, as always.

But Stockholm’s pretty damn nice, too, as cities go.

Quitting is underrated. When you’re in the position to say those magic words, it’s a pretty powerful feeling. When you do it for the right reasons.

I once had a boss I really didn’t like that much. When it was time for me to leave the company, and I had got a new job, I waited a whole week before giving my one month’s notice. The plan was for him to do one more annoying thing so I could stand up, raise my arms, and say, “That’s it! I quit!”

And nothing could have changed my mind.

Well, that was his good week, so on Friday afternoon I had to go to his office and just tell him that I was leaving.

He looked up from his papers, smiled, and said: “Good for you.”

“I know,” I said.