that I could do, many of which would even be useful or pleasant -- such as a reading a book, studying Spanish, writing a real blog entry, working on a submission for Threadless, writing, researching various things, writing emails to various people -- all I ever end up doing is sitting on my bed. Or sleeping.
In other news, I visited the Prado today (after getting pretty lost and walking through a park* of 17th and 18th century portraits (except for the amusing one of two toddlers in tiny white wigs), but I did enjoy the dramatic 19th century "history" paintings. Also went through several galleries of Velazquez's work. I've obviously never visited another gallery in the home country of a famous European painter, so I don't know if it's normal for one museum to contain what surely must be the majority of a painter's works, or if that is unique to Spain/Madrid. I mean, I'm not sure any other painters are as closely identified with the national identities of any other countries as Velazquez (and Goya, and El Greco) is with Spain.
Also, something excellent about the Prado: It's open until 8 every day, and free from 6-8 every day. Yeah! 8 euros isn't a huge amount, but still.
Off to be a bum now.
* So whenever I say I walked through a park, my parents are generally convinced that I am nine-tenths of the way down the road to being murdered and dismembered, possibly for my Birkenstocks. I actually did have one (but ONLY ONE) creepy guy approach and speak to me in English (?!!), then when I pretended he wasn't there and kept walking, accused me of not speaking to black people (I think, I couldn't really understand his accent.) I kept ignoring him and walking so I could enjoy my park-ly experience (the rest of the park was lovely, thanks), but I was really pissed for at least ten minutes. I think you have to be a complete moron (or a crook) if you approach a woman you don't know who is walking by herself in a big city and then are surprised when she refuses to talk to you. Ugh.