To my astonishment, I am getting used to Zagreb. Its petty-bourgeois ways are becoming quite normal to me. The snobbish nobodies around me do not even annoy me any longer. Not the least bit. But I am starting to miss my earnest disgust of yesteryear. My bilious ire. And my poisonous comments, which I used to spew out with enormous if untoward pleasure. How could I ever get used to the Croatian capital’s stuck-up ways? How could I ever acquiesce to its groundless conceit and arrogant ignorance of its rightful place in the grand scheme of things? Wait a minute, though. I already feel a bit better. To my relief, my ire is very much alive still. Only a few unforgiving words are enough to make me feel at home again. The old remedy is working quickly enough, albeit in reverse this time around. For crying out loud, I was born in this dreadful place!