Penultimate Belgian Weekend
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’s an amenable place, and the crowd was well pleased.
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.