A Case of the Sundays

I don't like Sundays, because the rest of the world has the day off and I have to work. The two days I'm off in the week are Friday and Saturday, so it's not like I'm actually being gypped of a free day. I get a standard weekend; it's simply shifted up by one day. This kind of throws everything off, though. Friday night still feels like Friday night, even though for me it's Saturday night. And so on.

I sort of always feel on Sundays that I should have the day off, and kind of remember when the alarm goes off that, oh yeah, I have an a-standard workweek and need to go to the video store. Rats.

The other thing I don't like about Sundays is how everyone assumes they should bring their children with them wherever they go. You can't go out to eat on a Sunday afternoon, or go to the beach (not that I've been to a beach in years, despite living in a city famous worldwide for its beaches), or God forbid go to a video store without being bombarded by strollers filled with 4 year olds for whom the entire concept of a "day off" is meaningless.

And those are the 4 year olds. I also hate the Sunday couples bringing their babies with them everywhere. They're babies! They don't know what day of the week it is. They don't know what time of day it is. They don't know the difference between Sunday morning and Tuesday night. They know they like applesauce and screaming and they know how to poop, that's it.

Listen, jerky, just because the feed store gave you the day off and church lets out before noon, it don't mean I want your 18 rugrats running around and yelling while I've got work to do, you understand?

End rant.