Sunday Night

During the part of my life when I was employed, I hated Sunday night. It meant the weekend was over and long days of work stretched ahead. Monday was especially hard with a slew of phone messages stacked up, two days worth of mail waiting to be answered. And as the weekend waned and as Monday approached there were all the undone things at home that I was going to do over the weekend. Laundry, housework, grocery shopping. Even if I was caught up with all that, it was still a depressing time. I never had a job I loved or looked forward to or even remotely enjoyed. My "real" life was outside work. Horses, Grateful Dead Shows, friends. I worked because I needed to eat and pay the rent.

Now I am no longer employed. Because of my age I can say I am "retired" rather than say I'm "unemployed." The fact is I don't have to face that irritating "work" on Monday morning anymore. Money magically appears in my checking account every month. I can sit in my own home in my pajamas and it still comes. I have all day every day to do what I want. But I still hate Sunday night. Old habits die hard.

I'm halfway into a good book on my Kindle, The Litigators by John Grisham. Half watching football on TV and a knitting project almost half finished. It's raining hard and the wind is whipping around. A good night to be inside and not have to worry about dragging out in the morning. Good night, Sunday.