It's been a lazy Sunday afternoon. I threw in a load of wash, had a lunch of leftovers, took a walk with friends, checked my email, and started the New York Times Sunday Crossword Puzzle. There's no real reason why Sunday should feel different from other days, since I don't work in an office during the week, yet it does. It's a time to sleep late, putter around, and generally relax.
Somehow Saturday doesn't have the laid-back feeling of Sunday. On Saturday, I'm more likely to run errands, do my exercises, and entertain or go out with friends in the evening. I think of Saturday as a high-energy fun day. On Sundays, I like to slow down.
My Sundays had a slow feel even when I was in high school. There might have been homework I'd left until the last minute, but there was also time to lie on my bed daydreaming about my latest crush, wondering if I'd see him between classes on Monday. If I wasn't fantasizing about boys I was on the phone with my girlfriends talking about them. Sunday was a day of possibilities, filled with the delicious anticipation of the week to come.
Later, when I was in law school, Sunday afternoon might find me napping. I'm normally not a person who naps, but law school was intense. Just thinking about the workload was enough to make me drowsy. On Sunday, the whole afternoon stretched out before me and my quiet bedroom beckoned. School work could wait until evening. Those Sunday afternoon naps were special. I've rarely taken them before or since, but they seemed the height of luxury at the time.