Sunday, 10 July 2016 —
I have a Sunday Routine in my head that I only follow on Sundays and on days off. I am the only person that follows this routine in the world because the only record of this is in my mind. Chris may ONE DAY crack the code. My mom MIGHT one day as well, but I get very irritable if people don’t read my mind and know NOT TO bother me till noon or after on a Sunday or a day off. How would they know this?
Read a blog, I guess.
Sundays, I don’t set an alarm. I am sometimes up at 8 or I’m up at 11, but I don’t believe in alarms on Sundays or days off. I wake up, make coffee, and immediately start cleaning the house. I don’t think anyone can function or be productive in a nasty work space or living space. From there, I head to my Mac and start looking at The New York Times and shake my head at the world and dream about living in New York or Europe because it seems to me that the United States is fucked all together these days. We’re going to Hell in a handbasket at the press of an app. “We need to get it together,” I think. From The Times, I move on to emails and then on to looking at both phones. What client needs my attention today? Did my mom call? Any friendly texts from my friends? Instagram, Twitter and Facebook come next. More head shaking proceeds. Blogging is my favorite round up to this social routine. I then move onto a shower, errands, lunch-dinner with Chris or mom and whatever else happens happens. Ideally, I’d like to read a few chapters of the many books I’m into or finish a magazine I’m thumbing through. The evening ends with reconciling emails, the schedule for the week and any paperwork I didn’t get to at the salon from the week. It’s all very boring past this point as I don’t consider my work week “fun”, per se. Sundays aren’t fun either. It’s all very busy. Today I’m prepping for my trip to Florida and need to work on my birthday party. Sunday is a day off disguised as an office day and errand day. That little bitch is an ugly whore wearing make-up luring me into the seduction of a day off with a workday finish. No fun, what a let-down.
I keep debating whether to put everything in a carry-on bag or actually check my luggage. I love traveling, but the task of waiting for a suitcase pisses me off. I look really awkward chasing my suitcase on the conveyor belt. I look a lot like Mario chasing that damn mushroom on Super Mario Bros. I never grow or shoot fire, but I get my clothes, flat iron and toiletries all the same.
Sundays aren’t so bad. Chris is making me eggs. THERE’S a plus!