Back in Brussels and exhausted, sick, but recharged. Spent the afternoon trying and failing to do administrative things and the silly Kafkaesque impossibility of it all is just funny now. Since Lexie is safe and on the road to happy at Sugarplum's and our stuff is being shipped and I'm 10 days from my departure, I'm starting to feel footloose. Nothing left here I couldn't walk away from in 30 seconds, as the guy says in that movie.
Sort of crappy to come back to the empty apartment though. I used to pride myself on my self-sufficiency, but take away my man and my cat and suddenly the place that's been my home for three and a half years feels like a temporary kennel when I come back to it from a sojourn at an old friend's house and Luke Duke's basement. Love is quite a thing; love is home. I don't think I'd ever quite realized that before. And there's no love for me left in Brussels, so it is very strange to be back, especially coming from Toronto, which is so full of people I love, and despite years of seperation is off the chart, relative to Brussels, in terms of what feels like home.
Anyways, I'm not self-sufficient. And I see how I could be, and it looks like shit. I have a new respect for cat ladies; they've really made quite a psychologically healthy choice by having all those animals to love, relative to your typical modern Western shut-in.