I have disliked Sundays since I was a kid. The cold shadow of undone homework hung over the day's activities. Now that I'm an adult there's still a bleak feeling about the pursuit of leisure on a Sunday.
Today I rattled around the house. I cleaned a couple of cabinets, knit a few rows on my latest project, read for a while, reheated leftovers, made an Indian Party Lamp, and designed our nengajou. Tod tinkered with the stereo and is deep in the music database, deleting duplicates and tidying tags.
Maybe it's the sedentary aspect of Sunday that gets to me. I should go for a walk to stir my brackish blood, but there's oden stewing and a movie waiting to be watched. I guess I'll walk tomorrow.
I have also always hated Sundays, probably for the same reasons. The doom of the Monday to follow is coupled with the "loafing" kind of feeling that Sunday brings. It makes me uneasy.
I spent my Sunday driving home from the in-laws while my husband and sons all slept. I wanted to sleep too, but it wouldn't have been wise.
Yes, I've always thought of it as 'the long, dark teatime of the soul', but i get it too.
Sounds like we need to have another sewing sunday or two...
Sometimes I don't think I live in the same universe as you.
Sundays are great! You can do stuff without people interrupting you!
Sundays are sliding door days for me. I don't like them much either.