The Sunday Night Freak Out

Weekends allow us to relax. For the husband, that means golf and cards. For me, I might go to the pool or curl up with a book.

Like all good things, the weekend ends. Then the brain neurons kick in and it's Sunday night. You're evaluating the week. You're facing reality again. You're making to-do lists. You're pacing.

Even retired people struggle with this. It's ingrained over decades and now there is nothing to be freaking about. It doesn't matter. The habit is there.

I have a Sunday night ritual. It involves a swim in my tub, a glass of wine and music. I have nothing to fear on Monday morning but I still do it.