Sunday, 16 June 2013
Almost a year since leaving my "real" job and I still can't escape that feeling that only Sunday night can bring. From the time I was in school, Sunday was always my least favourite day of the week. The weekend for me really only covered Friday night and Saturday - Sunday was its' own landscape - carrying all of the particular anticipation and often dread of the Monday that would follow. That night more than any other I would find myself tossing and turning and staring down the clock radio as the minutes and hours ticked by...meaning even less rest to face what would lie ahead. What was left unfinished on Friday evening that would have to be addressed, what homework hadn't been perfectly completed, what rituals would need to be endured - describing some series of activities that would compare to those of colleagues or friends who casually asked "how was your weekend?". When I was young, the Sunday night routine included watching programs like Sonny and Cher or the Carol Burnett Show - and I remember being acutely aware that when the programs were over it would be time to face the torture of going to bed - the racing mind - envisioning the monsters of the coming week and making them larger and nastier than could ever be realized when the morning came. I have no reason to carry the weight of this day around with me - and yet old habits are so hard to let go of. Which brings me here - to just another Sunday night - and a few more monsters to face.