The lament of a Sunday night

Who among us hasn't regularly felt the sense of chagrine that a Sunday evening brings? Even in my year as a freelancer, with too few cares to my name, Sunday night inspired that sense of dread you try to ignore. But no matter how you dress it up, you can't deny the party's over. Monday morning is inevitable, and it will come too soon.

Things I didn't do this weekend that I had wanted to do (or told someone I would do):
1. Drop off the baby shower gift I bought no less than 3 weeks ago, for the baby shower I missed last weekend (not my fault--out of town).
2. Begin knitting the "self-fringing shawl" pattern I picked up in Little Rock last month.
3. Call Joanna.
4. Read various work-related articles.
5. Get a haircut.
6. Write a get-well note to a sick friend.
7. Teach my mother "how to email electronic photos" (because I don't really know how to use iPhoto, so not entirely my slacker fault).
8. Exercise enough to balance out the obnoxious quantity of calories I consumed.

Things I did do (which should balance out my sense of defeat over the things I didn't do):
1. Identify a viable sofa for my new house (powder blue, microfiber/fake suede love seat--very Moderne).
2. Enjoy a live performance by the Quebcois-Celtic band Rosheen.
3. Eat crepes, including one wrapped around a Klondike bar (shared with two other people, so it's not quite as bad as it sounds).
4. Dig out the old art history texts and read about Robert Smithson and the Spiral Jetty (more about this another time).
5. Attend a party that was quite enjoyable and make conversation with new, interesting people, leading me to reevaluate my concept of myself as a social retard who can't deal with new people.
6. Sleep a lot (but never enough).
7. Talk to an almost-long-lost friend.
8. Spend quality time with my parents, whom I haven't seen in 2 1/2 months.

So, all in all, nothing to be too distraught over. Plus, Easter is coming up and I get a 3-day weekend. Woohoo!