Most people dislike Sunday nights. It’s a predilection that develops early, as a child contemplates having to return to the classroom after a weekend of fun. Then, as people enter the working world, it becomes the harbinger of the work week to come. Technically, for most people, Sunday nights are “free time,” but it’s a nearly universal thing that the following morning is the beginning of the work week and the start of additional obligations. Even for people who genuinely love their jobs, there’s a certain twinge of regret, a sense that something is about to be lost, on Sunday nights. It’s a temporary thing, but I think it’s pretty much universal.
When you are unemployed, it would seem that, at least in theory, Sunday nights would lose some of those resonances. If you don’t have a specific place to go the next morning, it shouldn’t necessarily matter as much. But it’s funny – at least for me, Sunday nights have been a lot worse since my job moved to Oregon without me. I have always found that, once you reach your Monday morning destination, things look better – there’s a challenge on your desk, you have a chance to chart your course for the week, you get to see your co-workers again. Once it’s about 10 a.m. and you are back in the swing, Mondays are often quite enjoyable. But right now, Mondays aren’t a lot of fun. And it’s making Sunday nights seem a lot worse.
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