I always find Sunday nights disappointing. It’s not that I dread the week to come, but rather that I regret the weekend that’s passed. This weekend I was supposed to: research color use on web sites, read my negotiation book, learn Spanish, talk to Barbara about joining the Circle of Friends board, begin research for a novel, put together website layouts, read Netherland, meditate a few times and read The Economist. Needless to say I accomplished a sliver of these things and as a result my internal narrator is upset. Worse is the fear that this weekend is just a scaled down version of my entire life. I fear that in the Sunday night twilight of my latter years I will look back upon all the things I wanted to accomplish with the same regret and remorse that I feel tonight.