After a month in Zürich, lectures and seminars and parties at the Jung-Institut, sharply cold weather shifting to rather warm weather (for which I have proven unprepared, still stalking around in my grand black coat and sweaters), I'm
– packing, somewhat fussily and ineptly (isn't this supposed to be vastly easier on the way home, because I don't have to make any decisions?)
– relieved I've bought only a few books this time, wondering what caused me to bring six books with me in the first place
– wondering in conjunction with the above whether I should really be allowed out of the house by myself
– thinking I should put it all aside for a bit and go have a last drink at Cranberry, that is assuming that the shy, handsome young bartender with glasses is still going to be friendly, specifically to me (no, really)
– concerned that the big exhibition book from the museum doesn't fit into the bottom of the suitcase quite right, and it had better not get beaten up because it's signed and Barbara lugged it all the way from Geneva for me and it's frankly a work of art in itself
– worried that when I dropped by the Musikwissenschaftliches Institut of the Universität Zürich today to make contact for some future research seminar or exchange agreemenet, I looked too scruffy and unshaven to meet the head of department, but it's too late to fix that one now and I have his e-mail anyway
– thinking that perhaps Giovanni would join me at Cranberry, except that of course he'll be late and chaotic as usual
– aware that, despite getting a lot done in these three weeks, I can always manage to fuss over wasted time and the inevitable urge to sleep late in this scruffy small apartment
– ultimately glad that Nada responded to my e-mail, and perhaps in summer I'll get an apartment that is better and yet cheaper....
Okay well I'm off to see the bartender. But we both knew that would happen.
(Giovanni texts me at this plan: 'Ach u are a romantik!' And I text back, 'But didn't you know that?'...)