Sunday evenings

After all those interminable mondays and tuesdays and so on till friday, you're left with the impression that friday evening will never arrive. You feel like a persecuted saint waiting for the second coming. When finally (hallelujah!) it's there and you're a bit heady with the euphoria.

No one is more disgustingly cheerful than I am on a friday evening or a saturday morning. Two whole days. The possibilities seem endless. I plan to wisely space out all the work I have, go out with my friends, read a couple of books and still have time left over for lazing around in front of the idiot box and bugging my mom.

To be fair, I do accomplish about 90 percent of the above-mentioned plans but somehow the ones pertaining to work of any kind is invariably postponed till sunday evening. I believe it's psychology of the kind 'Never do today what you can put off till tomorrow'.

It's all going good until it hits you on sunday evening that you're facing another week full of mondays and tuesdays and the rest of it and you have a pile of unfinished work to boot. It's a poignantly resigned and remorseful outlook that grips me on these days.

So I pause, put my books away and my legs up. After that there's nothing to do but curl up with a good novel to cheer myself up.