The thing about Sundays

The day seems so long when one is actually sitting in it and then, very suddenly, it's 8:34 pm and you have to start thinking about what you're wearing to work tomorrow.

I'm still trying to figure out what the heck I did all day. Let's see... woke up at around ten, checked up on Mom, made brekky for us, drank coffee, wrote a blog on my other site, read the Sunday paper, drank a beer and read a magazine out on the patio, did some grocery shopping, made dinner, and thought about what to do with my hair tomorrow.

I really don't like Sundays, they create a sense of angst inside of me that I can't quite explain. Perhaps it's knowing that I'll have to get up at 5:15 the next morning after sleeping in for two days straight. Or maybe it's the quietness of the day. Sunday casts a relaxed hush on the surrounding world, there's no bustle, there's no mail or rush-hour traffic, it's just a quiet time to reflect. That doesn't seem like something I wouldn't enjoy but it is.

Maybe it's because I'm lonely. I really am. And I really feel it on Sundays. It's this palpable and very tangible loneliness that consumes me on Sundays when I can't rush around at work or the shops or whatever it is I do on the other six days of the week. Even though I'm away from The Fiance every day, there is no other day that I feel more alone than Sunday.