Tuesday, August 23, 2011


430. 4:30 am. Being woken up by thunders and the sounds of heavy rain beating on the skylight. Wondering whether nearby he too is woken up ("I love thunderstorms!"), and, a little further away, how many of my Brussels friends are currently rendered sleepless by the torrential downpour and how many can see the vast night sky being sporadically brightened up.

431. 10ish am. Sometimes, when you can see nine people doing the same thing, what they are doing is probably the right thing. Like, waiting under shelter at the Delta metro and not taking that escalator up out of the underground, because that flimsy black umbrella you are holding is no match for the relentless hail that has been blanketing Brussels all morning, and your favourite, already terribly ruined pair of black flats can get even further ruined when waddle through the short, but flooded, walkway to work, and then you get to find out -- not much of a surprise, really -- that it is kinda unpleasant to be wearing a soaking wet skirt at work, and you wonder just how long you can stay inside the office half-naked until someone (besides your office-mate) finds out. 
Who knows, maybe inside other offices your colleagues are doing the same thing.

432. Living room. Ignoring the fact that Gaston has bought ingredients for the lasagna tonight, I am biting the hand that feeds me. 
Me: You are polluting the environment.
Smurfette: Yeah, you are polluting the environment. 
Me: You are an awful person. 
Smurfette: You are an awful person. 
Me: Oh this is great! 
Gaston: Now you have an ally...


  1. Here in Solbosch, it was raining in the elevators.

  2. Impressive :) Did you ring up J. to ask him to bring a dry pair of pants, like I asked M. to bring a dry skirt for me?

  3. I should have even if it's not a problem for me working two third naked... my officemate still not there.