People often pick Sunday night as the worst part of the week. Not the daytime, but the late afternoon into evening part. It’s the time when we realize the weekend is over. Even if it’s been a lousy weekend and we should be glad it’s over, still we dread Monday.
I’m surprised how many people I know who, all through their adult lives, confess to a vague sense of dread as Sunday comes to a close. Is it the memory of having to give up our free time and go back to school Monday morning? Even mature adults who love their work and don’t mind at all showing up on Monday, say they deal with feelings of melancholy on Sunday night.
My favorite day of the week is Thursday, because on Thursday, we’re already through half of the week and headed into the part where we’re looking forward to a weekend. Though I work at home and don’t have to show up anywhere most Monday mornings, I still get that looking-forward-to rush every Thursday.
The one thing in life I feel I can control is anticipation. People say “Don’t get your hopes up.” I like getting them up. So I like Thursdays the way I enjoy most of the nights-before: The night before a birthday, for instance, and the ultimate night-before – Christmas Eve.
In fact, I like Christmas Eve better than Christmas Day. It doesn’t have to do with presents expected, but more to do with having everything waiting and yet to unfold. Christmas Day requires special maneuvering to keep it from feeling a bit like Sunday night.
So Thursdays are like Christmas Eve, when hopes are high and all things are still possible.
Ó Anita Garner 2008