The blues come on little rat feet…apologies to Carl Sandburg. I have been pondering new ways to avoid the Sunday night blues after a particularly bad bout with the Sunday night blues last weekend.
The other night I was vegetating on the couch with my feet up reading junk fiction after a long day fighting dragons and tilting against windmills at work. I was wearing my black satin pajamas, and as I rose smoothly (hah!) to get myself a cup of tea my husband remarked that I looked like a “little old lady ninja” in those black pjs.
Okay, I’ll take that. My goal as I get older is to remain strong in body and spirit, at the ready to fight the demons and dragons found mainly in my own imaginings. Better this than a feeble old lady in a flannel nightgown.
The Sunday night blues is one of my demons. Every Monday morning at work when I ask people how their weekends went they say “Great—but too short.” (I am excepting of course those who have worked all weekend).
I’m pretty sure many people of all stripes fight the Sunday night blues. There are many blogs and articles with tips on how to beat them, from distracting oneself with non-stop activity, to planning some special treat for Monday morning, to meditation, to sunshine and exercise. As a matter of fact, it’s a gorgeous, sunny, September Sunday here in Boulder. Revel in it, I say! The ultimate trick I have is pure determination—to just be hell bent on wringing every last drop of joy out of each moment, Sunday or no. So - fight back against the Sunday blues like a little old lady ninja—and if it helps, imagine me: black-clad, feet planted, hands raised, staring down the demon blues in mock ferocity.
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2 comments:
1) Vitamin D as the days grow shorter and throughout the winter. Really. This S.A.D. sufferer says, "Take it."
2) Big band and old mono jazz, every Sunday night - while cooking dinner, eating it, and afterwards. It links back to a radio show that's no longer on the air here, but for a decade, first on the radio, later on our own collection, we've been playing big band and old jazz. There's something redemptive, grounding, uplifting about it. And once it's a tradition, then it serves the point of all traditions:
To lift you out of yourself, onto the shoulders of your forebears.
Peace.
Thanks, Jim! The vitamin D - already on it. Big band and old jazz - I'm willing to give that one a whirl as a Sunday night tradition. Used to have the kids over for Sunday night dinner as our tradition, but lately their schedules aren't always working out for that so we do Sunday lunch instead. (I am so glad they are both still in town, though...)
L
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