A weekend of not partying is a weekend spent recuperating, chilling and running errands. Not being up till the wee hours of the morning does have health benefits but it's not something I want to recur for another couple months. I know that alcohol isn't good for my system, I know that I have to drive for half an hour to get downtown, I know that partying it up every weekend leads to a wanton existence. What's to complain here?! As I read somewhere, a lifestyle is a terrible thing to waste.
To be fair I did have a great weekend. Junior drove to the East Side and we played tennis on Saturday afternoon in the gorgeous sun. The wind was the only thing that made the day slightly not ideal for tennis but that's me picking nits. Her slacker ass was tired within the hour so we showered at the Pro and headed to the mall to get some food. A couple slices of Pagliacci's pizza followed by a monster slice of Chocolate cake hit the right spots (the decadent meal was well earned). After some more TP in the mall, Junior headed home whilst I drove over to the waterfront in Kirkland to hang out with Deepesh, Amru and the rest of the gang. Some drinks, some banter, a whole lot of Amru bashing and it was 9pm already.
Damn that media center pc! Whatever hopes I had of tucking in early on Saturday were dashed when I sat down to catch up on my TV viewing for the week. All I have to say is Thank God I'm done watching all of 24! I passed out around 3am, was woken up momentarily at 5am by a phone call (I wasn't dreaming it) and eventually by a call from my brother at 8. He was so excited about what was going on in the Wimbledon final that he had to tell me all about the action till that point.
I'm glad Nikhil woke up because I was riveted through the Wimbledon final, focused especially on Federer's shot making as he scurried around the court. Nadal put up a great fight but when he lost the second set 7-6, it was a matter of time before the King stamped his authority on his fiefdom. That the tennis action ended just before the World Cup final began wasn't mere coincidence if you ask me - it was divine intervention! :)
Italy won the World Cup (whatever), Sarat and I played a marathon squash match (90 minutes long) and I went grocery shopping. While filling my cart up, I heard a friend highlight her reasons to doubt her involvement with a guy. Turned out that her reasons were purely a figment of her overactive mind but it shed some light on what is a core human tendency. All of us, at some point in our lives, have fabricated reasons to not be happy (in our relationships in particular). It's like a big, red self-destruct button that we can't help but press. Luckily, this one didn't commit the fallacy of doing anything drastic but what if someone wasn't there to talk her out of it?