Sunday Sunday Sunday

Sunday nights are always difficult for me. After two days of sleeping in and pretending I’m still a teenager with no bedtime and no responsibilities, I have to face the fact that another week is looming.

Another week where I have to be an adult, with a very adult job. I have to dress in a suit. I have to make tough decisions and stay late at the office to get things done. I have to come home tired and have dinner and go straight to bed because otherwise I will feel even worse the next day. And I can’t feel worse or be in a fog because every day is demanding and I have to fight against the growing desire to collapse on to my desk and take a nap as the day drags on. The days drag and the week drags until the weekend arrives and I can finally again pretend I am not an adult.

Because being an adult is bullshit.