i used to dread sundays. i’d spend the whole day obsessing over the passing of time, how each moment brought me closer to monday. weekends were fleeting, unbearably short, & sunday was for digging in your heels & pleading, ‘nonononoNOOOOO,’ futilely of course. not enough work had been done, not enough fun had, not enough sleep recouped. monday always refused to wait, no matter how desperately i begged for more time.
i’m kind of zen about sundays now. the weekends will never feel long enough – i could always do more work, sleep more hours, see more friends – but monday will come & it will be fine. sundays are like warm sunsets, mostly. i won’t pretend i welcome each one with a buddha smile, & there are plenty of nights that i look at the clock & see monday is only a few minutes away & think, ‘not yet, please!’ but for the most part, i try to remember that sunday is for strolling, for going back to bed after the animals are fed, for reading books without looking at the clock, for day-drinking & home-cooked meals. monday will be waiting, so i let it.