Bloody Sunday

The Pug of Darkness demonstrates carpet contemplation.

Ok, yes, it still feels like New Year's.  That's what New Year's gets for occurring in the dead center of the week.  Therefore, I've decided that we officially get to think in the New Year's-y way at least through the following weekend.  Which is this weekend.

New Year will forever make me think of U2 as they became popular during my formative years--and those original anthems of cultural and youthful angst still ring out in my head.  Of course, it gets a bit wibbly-wobbly in there and I have a hard time separating out the riffs of New Year's Day from Sunday, Bloody Sunday, but at least it's all from the same album.

Which brings me to Sundays.



Sundays are hard.  By Sunday, I've typically had to take Saturday to recover from the work week and I'm recharged (well, at least I can stand again)--ready to get up off the couch and DO SOMETHING.

Of course, doing something typically translates into DO ALL THE THINGS NOW and before long, I'm collapsed on the floor in a pile of tools and sawdust, a wake of in-process projects about the house.

I envy those people who can get up early and COMPLETE PROJECTS all day long.  When I find the genie in a bottle that's definitely going on the list of things to ask for.

In the mean time, I get to contemplate the varying textures of carpet in the house, and how it is that I can't seem to figure out how to pace myself when it comes to working on things.

Bloody Sunday.


Tweet