Sunday Sorrows

When the Antique Roadshow theme song blasts out of my television I feel sick to my stomach. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against the programme. I don’t actually watch it with any regularity but if I do, it’s because I’m procrastinating in front  of the television rather than doing something more useful. But that’s the point, it’s on at a time when I’m likely to be procrastinating because it’s on on a Sunday evening, and Sunday evenings are generally a time that I feel a bit rubbish.

It’s been a problem for as long as I can remember.

From around 4pm, most weeks, the Sunday melancholy appears.

I’m feeling it now, as I write this.

I’m perturbed by it.

Not because I don’t understand why I’m feeling this way. I do. It’s entirely understandable and natural. I’ve enjoyed having a couple of days of relative downtime and I don’t really want to have to go back to work tomorrow. It’s nothing to do with my job. I’ve had jobs I hate, and jobs I quite like and my current job is one of the most enjoyable I’ve had. But it’s not better than a weekend. Weekends are brilliant, even the weekends when I don’t really do anything (sometimes they’re the best ones…). I’m always sad when the weekend has to end.

What perplexes me slightly is that I can’t be the only person who feels like this on a Sunday evening (and a quick Google search reveals that loads of people feel this way – which possibly renders this post a little redundant really) but the accepted idiomatic expression in general use is “that Monday morning feeling”.

Not “that Sunday afternoon/evening feeling”.

I understand why.  It’s a much better sounding expression and uses alliteration.

And Monday mornings are quite hard.

But for my money, Sunday evenings are much worse.