Dear Sundays

We always had a weird friendship you and I.

For a long time I was one of those people who hated the other kind of people, those who celebrated the beginning of the weekend. For years I worked the Saturday night shift, which meant for me, Sundays were reserved for sleeping.

Eventually I gave up the weekend working, things at home were starting to decline and there was this brief period of time where I did look forward to your arrival. That day of rest and relaxation before the start of another working week was very much appreciated. I believe that’s what the big man upstairs intended it to be used for.

Lately however my opinion of you has changed, not I have to say through any fault of your own, you just happen to be the day on which church services are held.

Aggie likes to go to church, it is one routine from which she never seems to waver,. I have no issue with that at all, it is the preparation before hand that causes me so much stress. Now dear Sunday, I go to bed the evening before and feel anxious because I now know how things will be when your morning rolls around.

I’m sorry I’m ranting at you, but I’m tired, awoken from sleep at 7.30 am by the shouts and screams as Bert tries to clean Aggie after yet another episode of bed wetting, meaning I had to intervene and place her in the shower. Not an easy task when you’ve not even woken up yourself. This was before I even got round to the matter of getting her dressed, which this morning earned me another punch in the chest almost knocking me off my feet.

I have no idea what she is more angry about, but she often tells us that people are coming into the house to do these things, it is never her. Don’t get me wrong, I do know how humiliating it must be for her, but it is for Bert and I too, and unlike her we do not forget as easy.

I always imagined other peoples Sundays involved hanging out with friends, strolls in the park, catching up on missed TV shows from the busy week that has just passed and more importantly kicking back and catching your breath.

Sometimes I wish mine were like that.

See you next week.

Love Me x

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s