Sundays

            On Sunday, the world stops. I can’t explain it. All week I work at things that seem important, and the hours march by like the mile markers on a highway. Indeed, I am getting somewhere – each night as I blow the steam off of my tea the number of things I’ve done amazes me. But as I said, the world stops on Sundays, or the rules change, or I am simply surrounded by hours lying out like sunbathers. I want to say that Sunday disorients me, the way it sneaks up unexpectedly, but it’s so damn relaxing to do nothing!