The End of the Weekend

Am I the only one who feels the actual weekend never lives up to the promise or anticipation of the weekend? In no time you go from the Thursday night high to the Sunday afternoon doldrums. Then a new week and back to work.

A couple of poems on the subject:


Another Saturday night
in a lifetime of Saturday nights,
leading to a succession
of dismal Sundays.

Early Sunday Morning (1930) by Edward Hopper. Whitney Museum of American Art.

Sunday Blues

Sundays always depress me.
I wish we could pull
them from the calendar,
make the weekend
Friday and Saturday,
and then skip
straight to Monday.

Sunday (1926) by Edward Hopper.
The Phillips Collection.

And of course—the best expression of the “Sunday Blues” is Johnny Cash singing “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down,” with lyrics by Kris Kristofferson.



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