The theory of a full weekend somehow melted away. It's already Sunday evening and I'm not quite sure what has happened.
Saturday required me to work, so I was huddled over a computer until the early afternoon. Then brunch followed by grocery shopping and a pause to watch Doctor Who in a dreamlike state. An evening meal and the day had somehow dissolved.
Never mind, I had plans for Sunday, but today hasn't gone exactly where I expected. No big deal, but today feels like I've been operating in slow motion. Terry Pratchett invented that idea of the 'Procrastinator' as a kind of machine to park time 'at rest' to re-use it later. I could have used that this weekend, when I could have banked some of my 'slow time' to use on another occasion when everything has speeded up again. However, going with the flow somehow feels right at the moment.
It's the City tomorrow, then Milan, flying on Alitalia to bypass the predicted BA disputes but still dependent upon the new volcanic activity.
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