More of the same

Another week, another ... well, what exactly? Read some, worked some, ate and drank and lounged about some. Blah. Today is a holiday (Fronleichnam, the happy corpse) so I walked to the Kunstmuseum for brunch on the terrace (ham and cheese ciabatta, cafe au lait, very international; wrapped up warm against the chilly weather) then came to the office to work on the latest competition. Wanted to do a few hours of Münstery, but the VPN server is dead again. Now blogging while I wait for Princess to come by, to advise her on a translation for an exhibition of her work in A Very Major Museum Indeed in London sometime next year decade (VMM's plan well ahead). G and U were here with Ralph for a while, it's astonishing how quickly he is growing. The lad is clearly going to be a John Goodman lookalike.

It's odd, I feel that I am constantly busy and surrounded by people and events pressing on my consciousness and time, but when it comes to write down what I've actually been doing, I draw a blank. We may safely assume that I breakfasted seven times in these seven days, and that I slept equally often, but do I remember doing so?

I've written before about my alternating states of perpetual hunger and lack of appetite; after a week of not wanting to eat, I am now again in a phase of perpetual hunger.

Ah well, perhaps the weekend will bring some change. Sorry to be so dull, my dearies.