Such a common metaphor, yet I can’t really say that I’ve seen it in complete harmony in person all that frequently. I know I’m a dirty swine for posting it, but it’s not like I get a bajillion hits from the anonymous world.
As a kid, I never really liked Sundays. Sure, Sundays were technically a part of the weekend, but in all honesty, they’ve always had a symbolism for the ending that nobody wants. As far as I’m concerned, the “weekend” is technically whatever hours you have after working on a Friday, and Saturday. Sunday’s greatest luxury is the fact that, for the non-church going heathens like me, is that it is a day of sleeping in. Otherwise, the rest of the Sunday is spent with this feeling of a clock counting down knowing that the next day is a day of work, and that if you’re responsible, you end your day and go to bed at a time accordingly.
When I was a kid, Sundays were spent inconveniently getting up earlier than I would have wanted in order to go to Catholic church, suffering through religious “learnings” and then coming home to dinner, and for some reason, I’m remembering a television medley consisting of shows such as Parker Lewis, Can’t Lose, In Living Color, America’s Funniest Home Videos, The Simpsons, and some show on Nickelodeon. But in the back of my mind, I knew I had to go to bed early, because tomorrow, was school.
Not a whole lot has changed, really. I slept in as much as I could, barely hitting eight hours. But in the back of my mind, I know that I have to sleep at a reasonable time, since I have to work in the morning. No soothing Dunkin’ Donuts coffee to take the edge off on all this early-evening fatigue, because it’s going to keep me up all night. No zbs until 1 a.m. otherwise, I’m going to snooze four times and not have adequate time to Superman Banana before work. And right now, I’m brogging while I’m waiting for my turn to sit down and get in the squared circle with IRS. As it’s been the case the last few years, I’m probably going to owe money that I don’t really have right now. But at least it’ll be out of the way nice and early, and I can sit back and smugly watch people panic and the news exacerbate how epidemic tax season is.
But really, Sundays kinda suck. Whomever concepted the five-day, 40-hour work week needs to have their grave(s) dug up, corpse(s) desecrated, and mixed into candy that those crazy killer homicidal kids in Hostel from Bratislava would eat. In a much more adequate world, the weekends would be Saturday and Sunday, completely free and open, and Mondays allowing for reasonable sleeping in, and working “whatever you can do is fine.”
