Sunday should be renamed Sigh day….

Sundays can be a dream day for a procrastinator or they can be a torturous hell consisting of a lot of space and time to fill rather than do that thing that you don’t actually want to do…

I will let you guess exactly what sort of day mine was……

Yes, it was the torturous kind. The person I live with (I’ve still not found an acceptable term for him now that I’m approaching forty, that doesn’t sound like a cliche or a bit twee) is currently doing overtime, so from 12:30pm I have the house and day to myself.

I usually get a little washing done, I visited the gym, not out of any crackpot resolution but because our showers broken and they have hot showers, although the looks going into the cubicle with all my products, it’s a good thing as you get older you just don’t care anymore!

And then an expanse of time….. I have my outfit for the corporate asylum already pressed and ready. I made a bit of dinner. I cracked open some wine. At least I didn’t do that thing I’m avoiding. It is lurking in my consciousness but i’m putting it off and accepting its peeping stare with good grace.

So the wine is flowing and I’m writing this post but y’know as torturous as Sundays are with all that lazy time to fill and the psychological trauma of putting that one thing off, it is not that bad. Having this quiet time, in fact, I kind of like it.

So what do Sundays mean for you? Are you a productive hive of activity, goals and getting stuff done or are you like me a bare minimum’er….. Tell me in the comments below…. I won’t judge unless of course you’ve just written something that will win a nobel prize whilst simultaneously conducting brain surgery and flying a plane. Then, well… Then (and so will everyone else) I will hate you.

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