Lazy Sunday

Douglas Adams wrote about Sunday afternoons as one of the great dead spaces of our lives. He mentioned a sort of existential dread that comes after reading, for the fourth time, a paragraph in the Sunday paper about a revolutionary new pruning technique and the anxiety of looking forward to the long, dark, teatime of the soul.

I'm paraphrasing, but the message is that I'm stuck in the suburbs for the moment. Relaxing yes, but I'm not very used to sitting still.

Anyway, the polka program just ended, being replaced by what appears to be Serbian music. Yes, I am hanging out with my parents.

A nice visit so far. Tomorrow I move to a friend's house and begin a progression of dinner appointments. It sounds like only one will be an opportunity for dining out in one of the world's best restaurant cities. That does leave, however, 3 lunch opportunities.