The Sunday Panic

Sundays are difficult. After a leisurely breakfast, topped off with several cups of coffee and a walk around the garden, the realization hits that the weekend is almost over. No matter which way you turn, Monday looms. Even growing up, I had a problem with Sundays. Sunday was the day when visitors packed up and left, the day that we couldn’t stay up late and watch TV, the day when we had to leave the cabin by the lake and head for home, and the day when I’d realize that I’d forgotten about that five-page paper I had to to write for English class… due Monday at 9am, of course. A hollow empty sort of feeling would always settle over me by about lunchtime.

Annoying, really, since Sunday is traditionally a day of rest, a time to relax. Looking at the weekend from the Friday night perspective, it seems amazing that two whole days of free time await. Think of all the fun we’ll have! Think of all the things we’ll get done! How relaxing it will be! Then, before you know it, it’s Sunday afternoon and the panic begins.

Over the years I’ve had varying degrees of success staving off this Sunday panic. The first step is to get beyond the paralysis that inevitably occurs in the early phase of panic when you realize that you’ve got X, Y, and Z to accomplish, but really only time enough for X.  The mind will dwell on this for the rest of the day or until you give it a sound kick and make a point of doing something… just one small thing… anything that doesn’t involve worrying about how the weekend’s over and just where did all the time go anyway? Ideally, this one thing is a first step of the X, Y, and/or Z mentioned above. But even if not, even if you–like me–can find a million other things you’d rather do, do one of those!  Activity is better than paralysis. Once the body starts to move, the mind generally follows.

So, what activity did I chose on this Sunday (apart from writing this)? Well, I was going to give the gardens a much-needed weeding, but I wasn’t up to fighting the heat, the humidity, AND the mosquitoes. [There was a time when you could go out during the day and not be attacked by the nasty little biters, but no longer…] Instead, I decided to travel (just in my mind, for now) to a far-off and much cooler place with a good book–a travel guide to Scotland. It’s not really an X, Y, or Z activity, but we do need to figure out an itinerary for our trip there in October, so I think it’s legit. And so for a good 3-4 hours this afternoon I didn’t think at all about the bathrooms that need cleaning, the furniture that needs dusting, the door trim that needs painting, the chair that needs recovering, the pants that need mending…

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