Something tells me I've written this before. Let me say it again. I despise Sundays. To me, Sunday feels like the day before you're given the electric chair treatment, the last day of death row where you get to eat lots of food and have a relative amount of fun. Because bitch, once it's all over you die! Okay, it sounds a little melodramatic, but need I remind you of the uncertain dread associated with the first day of the work week. Suddenly it's Sunday evening and you're either rich and have DSTV and apparently watching Idols, or you're us who watch anything from wrestling to that Afrikaans show filled with psychotic, colourfully dressed people who laugh and celebrate EVERYTHING. An example : "Oh my God you guys, Vince just sold his 346th sandwich this morning. Meet us at Cherry on the Top (cocktail bar). Let's celebrate. Don't forget to invite you 87 year old neighbour, that wench never misses a party in the Laan (avenue)." To those who don't know which show I'm referring to, consider yourselves lucky. To everyone else, fuck, this shit kills! I digress. So there you are, sitting on the couch, after an entire relatively light hearted afternoon and it hits you like you are Britney Spears - one more time. Tomorrow is Monday which means wake up early, get ready, get ready to sit in traffic, get ready to sit in traffic some more, arrive at work, read email, write email, go to meeting, after meeting, after meeting, then have 3 hours left to do actual work. Times 5.
It took me such a long time to come to this potential solution - potential, because I've never really had a reason to go out on a Sunday, ex-boyfriends are in-house entertainment enough. And potential because I see my friends doing it and they seem to be having fun and not getting demoted at work because they didn't spend their entire weekend working or trying to solve work related problems that haven't even fucking arisen yet. So yes, from next Sunday onwards, I'll be going out, spending my days with actual (gasp) people and places and shop in real life and not online. And not worry about Monday and his 4 other shit-face friends. Yes, I'll be doing all of that.
But in the mean time, excuse me while I worry myself to death about the week ahead and give myself an aneurysm in the process.
Oh, and here are some depressing shit to look at. My pleasure.
