Everyone looks forward to the weekend. Friday night, then Saturday, then Sunday. They are, hands down, different from all the other days of the week. Now, being that I work six out of seven of them, I don’t really have the traditional weekend most 9-5ers experience. Despite that fact, I try to make my Friday and Saturday count. I’ll spend a reasonable amount of time out and about, go to bars and concerts, and out to dinner to reconnect with friends. Seeing as I live alone, there’s not that much excitement to be had at home. So out I go! I don’t let the long work hours get to me, and a small disco nap in the evening can cure almost anything. I say yes to all the invites, and put plans in motion when there are none. But as soon as Sunday rolls around, things get a little weird. There’s always brunch plans,farmers markets, and errands to run, but there’s also something I would describe as a general sense of restlessness. I have to admit, I was oblivious to this for a long time. I used to work short, sporadic hours, and often had Mondays off, so I was shielded from the impending threat of the work week for a while. Even so, you feel that last minute scramble to get everything done, to spend time with loved ones, and cram that last load of laundry in the dryer. Sundays sometimes involve good-byes, and most Sundays make me sad. It’s almost worse if you’ve had a good weekend, because, yes, it’s almost time to go back to work.
My immediate cure for the “Sunday blues” seems to have become ice cream. As I write, my fancy single scoop of Alameda Honey ice cream is melting next to me. A good shopping/cardio session also helps, but that’s only if running up your credit card doesn’t send you in to a panic later when the bill arrives, (hello adorable new dress from Madewell!). I like to keep things new and exciting, because then you don’t have to think about all the good things you would like to relive if you had a chance. I’ve always been a horribly nostalgic person, which can be problematic and very unproductive, especially when you have a big imagination. I’ll think about past events and the things that I might have done differently, worn different shoes or stayed out later. I’ve heard people talk about the practice of being grateful everyday, and it’s something I’d like to work on. I sometimes wish I could see wonderful times as they happen and appreciate them at that very moment. I wonder if this would make my Sundays feel less finite. I hope so.