It wasn't this house, but on this street, filled with Art Nouveau wonders, there is a house for let, actually I think it is for sale, but either way, there would be something cool about living in one of these places, much like there would be something cool about living in a home designed by Wright.
It is Saturday, and I am at a loss of what sort of constructive things to do. The world here is still as stultifying as when I left, and work seemed beyond absurd this week. Somehow, I really need to find the mysterious whatever that allows one to be braindead all week, doing ridiculous and repetitive tasks. I can't say when I will find that whatever, but I do hope it happens soon, before the pleasure from my trip totally fades, causing depression at the rut to which I returned. In truth, I have been trying to avoid that rut, but I can't say I am doing all that great a job.
Oh, I found Brugse Zot at the grocery store, so I am enjoying that bit of my trip, and can do so repeatedly, even if it wasn't my favorite beer.
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