Transit Inn: Last Weekend

I spent a long and tiring week at work the week before, staying late in office on most days till past 10pm. So when Friday finally arrived, I was filled with tremendous relief and joy. The punishing week was bad, yet it was bad in such a way that made me eager and determined to enjoy a carefree weekend. That means getting a good dose of rest, taking things easy and slow, and doing things that I like. In fact, because the entire week had been so bad, it wasn't difficult at all for my weekend to be enjoyable. On Friday night, after clearing up the last hurdles and leaving the office, my mind drifted into the realm of silly thoughts as I waited at the bus-stop. It had made an effortless switch from work mode to a 'I'm done for the week and I care not for anything in the world' mode.

While waiting for the bus and during the short bus journey to the train station, I began to entertain thoughts of what a perfect weekend should be like after a harried week like this one: it would be kind of nice if my weary body ought to be delivered into a Sleep Chamber. Somehow, the idea just came to my mind. I can only guess that it's fueled by a deep craving for a good, long sleep. A sleep chamber sounds enticingly welcoming, for not only would it enforce a sleep regime, but it also allows for an uninterrupted period of rest. It's a bit ike how the top pugilists in the pugilist world would periodically retreat into some secluded cave so they can't be disturbed while they are harnessing some deep inner powers. (Of course, in every show these old worldly elders always ended up being disturbed, often right at the last day of their retreat whereupon they would emerge with new levels of powers.) But I digress. I just needed a lot, a lot of sleep to rejuvenate my tired body.

Saturday and Sunday came and gone by nevertheless. They were, however, a splendidly lovely pair of S-days that can be summed up by three things: favourite snacks, relaxing sport, charming places. I would have liked to have more time to catch up with reading and sleep even more, but a weekend is a weekend is only a two-day interlude. Often I thought about this: The irony of wishing to spend a quality weekend is that you need to do some advance planning so that precious in-between hours are not wasted and scheduling clashes are avoided. Because the weekend is so short, you feel like you need to squeeze every minute out of it and do something productive or fruitful. Otherwise come Monday you will feel a sense of betrayal and regret at having squandered precious free time. Yet the whole point of a weekend is not to be sucked back into a semblance of routine and planning. Yes, you need to have a sense of how you want to spend the time; yet you don't want to feel obliged to plan and then stick to it like how the weekdays are bound and run on a scheduled engine. My personal experience tells me that those who are highly disciplined, decisive and determined often have things planned out in advance and tend to adhere to the plan. Those who are more lackadaisical, accommodating and less forceful, on the other hand, are the ones who go with the flow. I like to think I always try to find a balance between over-planning and under-planning, though in the case of weekend I tend to not make plans in advance at all.

I managed to be a bit of a bum over the weekend, and I felt really relaxed at not having anything on my schedule. No more Chinese New Year gatherings, no more reports to worry about. I travelled to places that I always wanted to check out, ate some super yummy favourite food, and took photos of lots of nice things. In place of running and cycling, I managed to swim not just once but twice over the weekend. This was quite a record, since I've not swum during the weekend for a very long time. And as a result of this happy weekend, I find myself a pretty contented worker this week so far.