Last night, I had a slumber party with a few friends. It was entirely unplanned, and utterly unexpected. I always keep very careful watch of the train schedules, but, after having checked what felt like a hundred times between only eight and nine-thirty pm (trains home end around midnight from where we were), I finally took a break from checking the time constantly.
And then, at about the same time, a friend got in touch about meeting up with us. I suppose my brain then linked his arrival to shortly after when he got in touch about joining us – around 9pm. When he actually arrived closer to 11pm, I had already taken to my breather from checking the time, and so had no idea of how late it actually was. As we were having a blast in a karaoke bar, which I didn’t even know Japan had, he suddenly asked me when our last train was. We had missed it by not quite ten or fifteen minutes.
So, the same friend casually offered a place to stay at his home, leaving us to experience a wonderful Japanese home – there was food in the kitchen, instruments strewn about the living room (and kitchen, actually), and living plants all around. This friend happens to be part of a wonderful family, whose loving space is fabulous.
And in this fabulous living space we all slept. Even my friend decided he didn’t want to stay in his own bedroom downstairs by himself, and so he joined our living room slumber party. Two friends slept on futons on the floor. The other friend, the one who lived there, and I slept above them in hammocks. It was fabulously tree-fort-like. And, in the morning, this morning, he made breakfast for us all. Stupenda.