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Sunday

Sunday is known as Funday; It’s been called a day of rest; Sunday for some means Sunday dinner; For me, Sunday means one thing; Monday

Yup, for me Sunday brings Monday; Like sore joints bring rain; Like, “We need to talk,” brings heartache; Sunday brings, well, you get it….

Sunday does this to me every seven days; It’s like most of my romantic relationships; It starts out great; a gentle wake up, a more than satisfying breakfast, maybe a soothing ride up the coast; Then BAM! It’s already noon time! It’s more than half over! It rips my heart out! And it’s inevitable that it will leave me! It never turns out to be what it seems

The ironic thing is that the dreaded Monday comes and it usually doesn’t turn out as bad as Sunday seems to make it; What does Sunday have against me to always ruin my weekend?

Any WHY do I look so forward to head toward the next one?

Author: Whipped Owl

Writer Musician Historian Sportsman Loner

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