Saturday night and the music's bright and you're (downtown)

Oh weekends. Aren't they just full of the most lovely sense of promise? Friday snuck up on me this week. A one hour meeting turned into a 7 hour lock-in/workshop and before I knew it people were downing pens to farewell a colleague and the remaining list of things to do had only a scant few minutes to be attended to, woosh, without warning, Friday was over, and woosh, without warning the weekend was here.

And the weekend thus far has been stumbled upon half made random workmate plans (including giant games of 'Connect Four' in seedy bars, arcade games and nice rambling chats over tapas), plus nebulous sketched in possibilities for the days to come: a plan made last weekend, to buy a pasta machine and make ravioli for hours on end, a lingering need to buy furniture for my newly organised and very newly key owning studio space (yah!), an offer of Sat evening gals and craft and chat, a penciled in "rollerblading" to the diary on Sunday, with no actual plans made, calls made, emails sent to target people, to organise it.

I also have journal articles and a report to finish, that would benefit from a few hours, family to call, a squillion books to read, people to email, groceries to be bought, diaries to be frownned at, lists to be pondered over, life plans to be sketched in - but not urgently. With the lingering rain I may have clothes that need rescuing from the line and taking to the laundromat. I have day dreaming to do, a cat to pat, dishes to wash, bed to remake, cards to be written in and sent. Friday night is almost the best because I can hold these vague and sometimes incompatible possibilities in my hand as shifting 'maybe's', imagine for a second that I can do all of this, all punctuated with sleep-ins, with a relaxed feeling and no rushing. Aaaah.