AUSTIN, Texas, Feb. 5, 2006 — When I worked, I used to get depressed on Sunday night. I'd feel like I'd squandered the weekend, maybe. Or I'd dread facing the stuff I'd left behind on Friday 'to be solved next week.' Maybe I'd have a tough meeting or deadline looming. Even if I got it out of my mind to enjoy my weekend, I had to let it sneak back in on Sunday night.

Usually when I'd get up and go to work on Monday and get my butt in the chair, it was better. But Sunday nights would be depressing.

FFP mentioned this phenomena tonight.

How he used to start worrying about deadlines and stuff on Sunday night. While he still does his columns and a few little things, not much is so tied to the work week that Sundays bear this 'end of time off' burden anymore.

This has to be one of the more useless days in my entire life. I did manage to wash linens and some other laundry and put that away. (Although I didn't press the cotton stuff.) But that is it. I did a very short workout, too.

Mostly I was a couch potato. My excuse was that I didn't feel perfect. I had a little sore throat and my digestion was dicey. You would have thought that I had eaten and drunk all that stuff my guests had. But I didn't. No one should feel that bad in payment for a few apps, a taste or two of the entry, one glass of wine, a brownie, a cookie and water and coffee. On second thought maybe I had too much coffee.

Yeah, I was a little depressed today. But not because I have to go to work tomorrow. Tomorrow, when I'll surely feel better, I'll have time to do chores. I won't be at work.