Sunday afternoon blues

[ksmith]

It hits me every Sunday afternoon.

It's the flip side of TGIF (thank God, it's Friday). The weekend, which started with such bright promise, is now inexorably rolling toward a conclusion. Even if things are going right, those Sunday blues have mysteriously reappeared, bringing mild depression, echoes of loneliness, or a twinge of malaise or melancholy.

Not everyone gets them, and it is impossible to quantify how many people do, but the anecdotal evidence is there. If people are asked whether they have a downward mood swing by late Sunday afternoon, chances are they will recognize the symptoms and confess that the visitation shows up like clockwork.

I had the attention span of kelp today. There were things I should have done--cleaned a few boxes out of the cellar, vacuumed, written something. I sent off my Denvention programming thing, but I still haven't finished the questions for an interview site, and I should've at least worked on the short story or maybe plotted the mainstream suspense thing that's pinging around in my brain.

I did do three loads of laundry. Made the cornish hen, which came out pretty well. But I should've done more. That's the thing that gives me the Sunday Blues. I should've done more, and I knew it even as I puttered and wasted time.

Comments

[e-moon60.livejournal.com]

Oh, babe, that's me, too. There's always something I wanted to get done--that I wanted to feel good about having done--that didn't get done and then on Sunday night (like now) I'm kicking myself back and forth across the room, depressed and annoyed and all that.

It doesn't require a day job to have the Sunday Evening Blues. (Our trash pickup's Monday, too, so if I didn't get something ready for trash by now...it's not going to go this week...)

[kristine-smith.livejournal.com]

And I have no one to blame but myself, because if I want to change things, I need to bear down and get organized *now* because summer will be here before I know it.

I'm already stressing about upcoming deadlines, and I don't even know what they are yet.

I don't know if we have trash pick-up tomorrow or not. Which means I need to play it safe and put it out tomorrow morning anyway.

This bitter cold isn't helping. Even a quick jaunt down the drive to get the paper means piling on the gear, and I am sick of piling on gear. I'm sick of shoveling snow as well, and we may be getting some of that in the next day or two.

I've never been a SAD sufferer, but I am sick of winter.

[e-moon60.livejournal.com]

This is the winter of all our discontent.