The first
weekend of post-work and pre-departure has passed.
Saturday I
woke up at 6:27, 3 minutes before my alarm used to go off for my Saturday
teaching routine. I slept through the pre-dawn time when I used to stand on the train platform, Belgians smoking their morning cigarettes in the cold mist. At 9:27 I realized I would be half an hour into my first
class, and wondered how that student’s 18th birthday last week went (take a minute and appreciate the absence of teenage angst in your life). That was my
last teaching thought of the day.
Saturday
night we went out with some colleagues from the old call center job. As always, I
came home thinking “why haven’t we done more of that here?” We went to an Irish
pub, where a lad with a guitar was playing Britney Spears, followed by the
Spice Girls, then Metallica, Cat Stevens, Radiohead, Lynyrd Skynyrd and I don’t
know what all. Normally either of those first two would get you drummed out of
an Irish pub, but Belgium
He was a
funny looking little guy, kinda like this guy from the Pirates movies, only with
a gap between his front teeth. But he was playing the guitar, playing it well (broke a couple strings) and singing
popular songs, and my Theory (Truism) that playing the guitar is the
#2 best way for a lad to endear himself to the ladies was born out this
morning when K remembered him as being cute. (Out of self-interest I am
unwilling to believe K has bad taste in men.)
Today was
the day K’s brother-in-law and father could help us move the heavy stuff out of
our apartment, so here I sit at our wee table which will fit in K's Corolla, the only piece of surviving
furniture except for the two retro orange chairs sitting in front of the bare
wall to my left. The refrigerator was the hardest thing to carry down from our fourth floor walk-up.
I’m pretty
tired, since we didn’t go to bed last night until around 4:00 AM, so in a
minute I’m going to go to bed to mattress.
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