Detestable Sunday

There’s a part of me that really hates Sundays. They are nothing but an excuse.

The weekend is supposed to be for resting, releasing some steam, and recuperating. Or for the more ambitious of us, getting done those things we didn’t have time for during the week. Therein lies why I hate Sundays.

I always enter the weekend bursting with go-getter spirit. I tell myself, “I will get all my homework done!” “I will go explore that park nearby!” “I will write a new blog post!” “I will do chores and run errands!” Most of that never happens. I work on Saturday, so when I finish at 4pm, I figure that the day’s mostly gone, and since I worked hard all day, I can go home, rest the night, and get stuff done on Sunday. And then the dreaded Sunday dawns. It usually goes something like this:

  • 8:00 Alarm goes off
  • 8:10-9:30 Snooze button hit multiple times, I roll over and fall back to sleep.
  • 9:30/10ish I get out of bed
  • 10:00-13:00 I sit in front of my computer, “checking emails and news” (I’m probably playing games or watching TV shows)
  • 13:00 I venture out for some food
  • 13:30-17:00 More game playing/TV watching
  • 17:00 I realise that I haven’t been grocery shopping yet, and head out to buy veggies for the week’s dinners.
  • 18:30 I return home and eat some dinner, continuing to play on the computer.
  • 00:00 Bedtime. I have neglected all my homework, and whatever else I was “supposed” to have done.

Usually sometime around 5pm that detestable feeling sets in. It’s a kind of nagging voice in the back of my mind calling me lazy, a do-nothing. By the time I get home from shopping, I start rationalising. “But I went shopping! That’s ‘doing something,’ right?” But in the end I still just feel lazy and unfulfilled.

I know that rest is necessary to maintain efficiency. But I still hate Sundays.

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