...getting rained on in Tokyo.
...old enough to drink alcohol but not old enough to know when to stop.
...blogging since 02/22/03.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Sign of life I've been negligent with this blog and I apologize with all my heart (in case, there are still readers out there who care about me abandoning them). But now that I finished the sixth season of West Wing, I can use my computer for something else than watching TV. Moreover, TF is starting a new job in Amsterdam reducing the pool of tolerable people in Brussels to 1. So there's nothing left that gets in the way of writing about my occupatioal therapy of a life any more. Problem is, nothing's happening. The trouble with my blog is that I only have time to maintain it when there is nothing worth telling.
Of animals starting with R I've been on an anti-social streak since my buddy TF has gone skiing this week. So I sit home alone all evening long and muse about how I miss looking at his hair.
So far the time his absence freed up hasn't been put to productive use like tax declarations or preventing rats from annexing my appartment. Said rats have dragged away all that was left of my clean pants so that I will wear a skirt tomorrow and enjoy the traditional tearing up of pantyhose in the first hour of wearing them. Good thing those rats are only a figment of my imagination or else I'd wake up finding a rat-sized amusement park made out of corderoy and tweed under my bed (did I mention that I haven't done my laundry in a really long time?).
The giant black rabbit that my neighbors keep seems to sense my apathy. Every time I look out of the window I see it watching me motionlessly. It's either a peeping tom (I also ran out of clean pajamas) or it wants to eat me. I'm guessing the latter: currently, nothing resembles a vegetable as much as me sitting on the couch.
Currently in the middle of season 5 A month ago I started watching The West Wing and I've been harboring a strange obsession with it since. It's the only show that makes me cry sometimes. Apparently, I'm immune to the tear-inducing power of impossible love affairs or dead puppies but give me some politicians with a bit of moral fiber left and I'll cry you a decorative pond of medium size. It's nice to see that reality shows hasn't killed all the fiction on television.