Monday Blues On A Sunday

I read a piece of writing in some magazine (I think it was Reader’s Digest) a long, long time ago by a woman living near a desert, who starts to dread the coming of summer as soon as winter is over. She wrote that the dread made her summer 5-6 months long. Once she psyched herself to stop the early dread, she managed to reclaim her spring, and with some planning, summer itself wasn’t too bad either.

I think my Mondays are like the dreaded summer, and I get the Monday blues on Sundays. The heavy feeling in my heart starts around 4 pm on Sunday afternoons, and I start to measure the hours and minutes to my 11 pm bedtime. It is hard to enjoy anything during this window of time when I am looking fearfully towards doomsday.

In fact, things have gotten to a stage where I find myself not wanting to start Sundays at all, because it is going to lead to a Monday ultimately. I drag my Saturday out as long as I can; not going to bed until 3 or 4 am on Sunday morning.

I am trying to stop the dread as best as I can. I have totally stopped scheduling external activities (meals, concerts, meet ups with friends etc) on Sundays, so that I have maximum rest and peace before Monday comes around again. Not taking afternoon naps on Sunday helps too, since I get more time to do things, and that also makes me tired enough by Sunday night to fall asleep immediately and cut down on the tossing and turning and dreading of the morning to come.

Despite the tricks I employ, the heavy feeling doesn’t totally go away on Sundays. I suspect it never would until I either get a job which I enjoy so much that I practically can’t wait to get to it (which, given my inherent laziness, is pretty iffy), or I retire.

I wonder which is more attainable – early retirement (by 40 years old) or getting a job that I love THAT much?

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