The end of the weekend.

Sunday during football season is the best day of the week. I pretty much split my day between sitting around all day watching football and trying new recipes. I have some zucchini bread cooling right now, and Chris is out at the grocery store buying stuff for me to try a new lentil soup recipe tonight. So what if there is laundry to be done? So what if tomorrow I have to go back to work? For the moment, I am enjoying a house where the Cowboys are losing and the baked goods smell delicious.

Sunday nights are a whole different story, though. I like my job, more or less, and once the work week has started I get pretty much into the zone -- probably too much into the zone, in fact. But the Sunday night pause before the work week begins, when we're eating whatever we've cooked for the day and feeling slightly restless from a day of lounging around in pajamas, is the lowest point of the week. A weekend well relaxed does not create a Sunday night where I want to go back to work, but rather a Sunday night where I wonder if I'm doing the right things with my life, and what I should be doing instead, if I should be doing something else instead, and why I didn't spend my weekend doing something virtuous like finishing the pile of laundry or something fun like take a trip away or something other than what I've done.

But for now it's not yet 5pm and I still have a few hours before the Sunday night malaise sets in. Time to enjoy the zucchini bread.