I think everyone can say that Saturday and Sunday are the fastest days of the week. Hands down. Why? Because are normally the days when most people actually have the choice to do absolutely nothing at all! I write mostly. On Saturday, I did cave and go get a pedicure, which was SO relaxing, and a frappe from Panera. It was wonderful! I went to work that night, but it wasn’t busy at all, so I got to go home after an hour of being there. I came home and spent the evening with my younger sister doing absolutely nothing. It was nice.
Sunday (for me) always has an air of depression about it. Because I know I have to go back to work the next morning, so I have squeeze everything I want to do (or not, as the case may be) into this one day. However, Sunday morning soon gives way to Sunday afternoon. And on Sunday afternoons, I get dragged away from my writing to assist with dinner. Now, I like to eat and I like food. Probably wouldn’t be able to tell if you saw me though, because to most people, I look like a recovering anorexic. But, I’ve made salads for my family so many times that I honestly can’t stand the thought of making another salad. I’ve sliced through my nails and had to endure the smell of onions, all to give my dad his salad. I’ve started digging my heels in when it comes to salads to the point where my mom has actually stopped asking me if I can make them. Yay! My evil plan worked!
So… after I’ve basically done everything but the meat, it’s time to eat. Once eating is done, guess who’s got the kitchen? Trick question. After the kitchen is done, it’s time for bed and the evening is done and gone. That is why I have diagnosed myself with PTSD: Post Traumatic Sunday Disorder. I also have Post Traumatic Salad Disorder, and another kind, but that will be a story for another day. So, last night was pretty much the same thing that I explained above. Except… I DIDN’T HAVE TO MAKE THE SALAD!!! 😀
And on that note, it’s been real!