Sunday Night

In the past I never really liked Sundays. It was always the day of the weekend that was tainted. I'd wake up in the morning and much to my delight, it was still the weekend. So I would go down stairs, pour a cup of coffee and sit quietly enjoying my peaceful and relaxing thoughts. After about an hour I would fix some breakfast and possibly do a little laundry. It was nice. I went through the day at my own pace, enjoying the time that was for me. But then two or three o'clock would roll around and it would inevitably happen. That feeling of dread would pour over my body like a wash of molten lava burning through my skin. I would actually on occasion become temporarily paralyzed with the thought that yes tomorrow was indeed Monday .And from that moment on my Sunday no longer represented my time for relaxation and inner peace. It was an all consuming reminder that the weekend was slipping away at a perilous rate and my day tomorrow would again become the mundane, boring and all too often predictable first of four more to come. But the past few months that has been changing. Sunday is no longer filled with false hopes of a time when I can do those things that make me happy, only to be ripped out of my hands. No, since I now very often do not go into the office on Monday (I've opted to work from home on Mondays), my Sundays have been returned to a day of carefree bliss. A reminder of days gone by as a young child who was not affected by the daily grind of jobs, cars, groceries and cooking. I now love my relaxing Sundays once again. No more midday crisis or melt down. No more tainted days, nope not for me. Well... that is until Monday.