Sundays

Sundays have a particular feel to them.  It's my official frump day.  Those types of days actually happen for me more often than not, but Sundays receive intentional recognition.  I was launched into Sunday in a haphazard manner this morning.  I rolled out of bed to the wake-up call of my cellular phone, forgetting that the time change had occurred.  I allowed myself time to do my typical morning stretches.  If you are envisioning a little old lady who does her shoulder rolls and neck stretches, then I would say that you are not far from the truth.  I'm tight, alright?  I decided recently, after careful deliberation of my ancestral qualities that my body structure can be likened unto that of a jungle cat.  Let me explain... This is a subject that will warrant further exploration, but for the time being, I will just say that taking the time to decide what kind of animal you are most like can be a very helpful and insightful tool.  Yes, a jungle cat.  I'm learning to embrace the concept.
I can't say that I've ever had any previous ties to this notion of appreciating this specific feline species.  I've never been thrilled with the idea of domestic cats.  I find them rather boring and apathetic.  I'll attribute this attitude to my experience with the family cat.  A fluffy fat thing, that stares blankly at her surroundings.  And instead of smoothly and coolly bring herself to the ground to stretch and lay, her dismount to the floor unfolds in a jerky, graceless manner.  When she wants to lay down, it's as if she has suddenly given up on standing.  She allows the pull of gravity to overtake her rolli-polli being and sort of rocks to her side with her paws all outstretched in front of her.  It's like watching a toddler who has been bundled up in a snowsuit attempt to get off the floor after the mother has stuffed the young thing into his boots.  The child bounces back and is helpless on the floor, the snow suit material unyielding to the his attempts against it.  This is the example of a feline that I have had at my disposal for the past several years.  P.S. Cloey, deep down I love you.
Anyway, I'd like to go back to my discussion of the nature of Sundays.  It's a strange phenomenon to experience predictable feelings that occur like clock-work simply because of the particular day that it is.  It creates a ritualistic predictability.  This occurs with Saturdays...it occurs with Mondays... It's like a rotating menu.  As I think about tomorrow, I can predict how I am going to feel tonight as I prepare for bed.  It will be a slightly anxious feeling.  And that anxious feeling drives me to want to organize myself more for the next day.  Once I'm in the week however, that anxious feeling isn't nearly so acute.  And more times that not, I am not even close to completing or carrying out all the items that I was anxiously anticipating on Sunday.  And as I think critically about this, I realize that I have come to expect that I will be anxious on Sunday night.  In the words of Decartes, "I think, therefore I am."  I have already made up my mind to be anxious, and lo and behold, those feelings occur without fail.  How do we break those cycles?  Those patterns that become second nature?  These feelings that I come to depend upon as part regular experience.  And then of course, in a more positive light, I think about the feelings that I associate with Saturday, or my Sabbath more specifically.  Friday night always brings a sense of calm.  Even if I am wrapped up in activity that hasn't allowed me to realize that Friday evening has ascended, I still receive a distinct sense of stillness that rests and encapsulate the rest of my thinking.  This feeling separates Sabbath from the rest of the week.  If that isn't a powerful play on feelings, then I don't know what is.  I get to experience this phenomenon on a regular basis, with a clock-like effect that is dependable.  So, I asked the question:  How do we break these cycles?  I'm not sure I want to break that one.  I want to pick and choose.  It's mere observation at this point.  I don't necessarily feel the need to do anything about the anxiety that I experience on Sunday nights.  To observe that it is there is helpful.  And to be absorbed in my Sunday afternoon, enjoying my frumphood to it's fullest.  That is what I have come to expect from my Sundays.