God do I hate Sundays.
I hate them with a pissy, pithy, passion.
52 of them in a year, 53 if you're unlucky.
Either way, they're all doom-laden.
Some people love them, some people pray for them, other people pray on them, and every year more and more of us work during them. (enter "Dad").
I have never been a fan of Sundays. In fact I would go as far as to say I hate Sundays almost as much as I hate Mondays. Tuesdays do very little to me, Wednesdays are a little better since Thursdays are right around the corner followed rapidly by Fridays... the *best days* ever.
Sundays are perpetual downer days where you sleep in late without a care in the world and then struggle to get to sleep that night. TV schedules are all awry and there's all together wayyyyyyyyyy too much sports on cable. My friends are mostly all recovering from hangovers and not too many are gung-ho to sample exotic Sunday-esq cuisines such as Dim-Sum.
So, I lounge. I read your blogs, I surf the net, cook some food and I lounge some more. B-O-R-I-N-G
You would think that I would pick Mondays as my least favorite day of the week since I dislike having to go to work after a nice weekend, but no. I hate Sundays more, because they are filled with the impending doom of Mondays. Sundays inevitably always ends up being long "ok-well-it’s-almost-Monday-now" waits for the weekend to end.
And now that Sopranos is done, Sundays just got a little worse.