Sunday Evening Sucks

All my life - well, until retirement - I’ve always hated Sunday evening. Why, you ask? Because it was the end of off time and the next day, Monday, was on time.

Back to school, back to work, year after year after year. No one should be subjected to that kind of weekly rigid ritual.

Try to imagine 50 plus years of that. From the time I was six until retirement, Sunday night was always looming to let you know it would be five long days until there is any relief from your torment.

Summer Was No Picnic

Even in the summer there was no time off. In fact, it was even worse.

Summertime — out of school right? Play all day or just lay in bed. Not on your life.

I grew up on a small farm and that was a seven-day-a-week job during planting and harvesting season. After church on Sunday you went to work. Half the time, I was hung over from Saturday night.

Not All Jobs Have a Sunday

Even during the time I was doing factory work — there was no relief from Sunday.

Whether I worked days, afternoons or midnights, there was still a weekend and if I expected to get any fun out of life with those who had normal jobs, I had to either go without sleep or call in sick on Monday.

I’m not sure even Monday holidays helped when they came along. It seemed like you were expected to put in five days of work in four days.

Always Something There to Remind Me

To make things worse, there were always the same TV shows on Sunday night to remind you it was Sunday night. Thanks so much for driving the nail in a little further.

Just like the Dion Warwick song, “Always Something There To Remind Me.”