Sunday is two days

Difficult as it already is to face Monday, the challenge doubles when at the closure of a long weekend.

A Sunday affair
Sunday brunch (late riser here) is my favorite part of the week. Either I cook or visit a deli nearby (has to be cheap, for, by now, I've pretty much ran out of money as a result of Friday's and Saturday's indulgences). Everywhere is quiet, at home as well as outside with very few people having the energy and interest (and cash?) to step outside their home. It is the only time when I can pore over a book for hours. The entire affair—eating, reading, and contemplating (which is a given)—extends until late in the afternoon, when the sun fades and it's cool enough for me to retire to my room.

Sunday night is second to the worst part of the week. Between 8 to 12 o'clock, you cram all the other little but pleasurable things you wish to do: surf the net, blog, watch TV, listen to music, be nostalgic over text messages and snapshots on your camera phone... repeatedly interrupted by thoughts of an impending Monday.

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Dolphin love and limits — A companion sketch

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Notes on ‘Blackbird’

Disjointed

To hunt for Paula's poems

Road to Justice

Reflections after reading The Beach by Alex Garland