Sunday

He would spend a good deal of his Fridays planning his labor and lesisure for the weekend, and it was this planning that allowed him to feel that he was getting the most of his free time. But the price of this self-satisfaction was a sense of anxiety he felt every Sunday evening, an anxiety based on the feeling that for all his accomplishments, he really wasn't getting anywhere, that his alarm would ring at the same time on Monday morning, that he would leave within the same 15 minute window he always left, that his greatest challenge at work would continue to be maintaining or at least faking interest in his assignments until he eventually left within his usual 15 minute window to return home, where, while significantly more interesting than his work life, presented mostly the same routine domestic challenges each evening. It was knowing that his wonderful weekends were merely an interlude to the comforting banality of his life that led to his anxiety on Sunday evenings.