Spectacularly unproductive

I had plans this weekend.

They were fantastic and inspiringly ambitious plans. Plans that would initiate a momentum of awesome force, such that I would have accomplished so much by Sunday night, and this momentum was to continue into the following week, and accordingly, I would have achieved so much more. And yet... I didn't manage to revise/memorise that Chinese character book I'd been meaning to for so long. I wasn't able to review the space law publication or read the book on international criminal law or make a start on "The Grapes of Wrath". And I had put so much effort into staking out a great table in the study hall on which many a page of literary genius was to be composed...

I had plans this weekend.

Ideally, it wasn't going to be a weekend of decadence and debauchery that most would forgivably associate with someone my age. But the moment a mate from high school rocked up in Tokyo and called me at home, all my plans promptly evaporated into thin air... Until I woke up this afternoon at just before 1pm to go to a lunch with friends, I hadn't seen daylight for 3 days. That's not entirely true - I did see sunrise on Saturday morning as I was leaving a club (or as much of a sunrise as can be seen in the middle of skyscraper-Tokyo), but I'm not sure that this really counts.

It was a good weekend, though, even if it didn't go according to plan.