Sunday Blues

I have always been a victim of the Sunday Blues. Part of it is my fault - i've always been excitable, and therefore have always really looked forward to the weekends, have planned lots of things I love, and packed lots of activities in. And so on Sunday, when it is over, I feel a huge sense of anti-climax.

The other problem is that I have often worked Sunday evenings, and while I now no longer do (more or less) the sinking feeling of having the weekend cut short, of dreading work, stays on.

But today I spent my Sunday as it should be, as, I believe, God intended. I woke up late, went to the gym (hence feeling ever so slightly righteous) and went with the Boyfriend to meet some friends. We sat in a pub, watching football, chatting, eating Sunday food, and drinking good wine. And then we left and went to another pub where we did more of the same.

As we came home on the bus, falling asleep on the Boyfriend, I felt so contented. Full, sleepy, and with not a touch of the usual Sunday Blues. I shall be spending more of my Sundays like this.