For many years, Sundays have been my favorite day of the week. Sundays have always been a down time for me. A time to relax and do what I want to do. I could stay in bed and read or watch TV all day or I could go visiting and shopping in the big city of Dallas or I could even quilt all day long leaving my scraps just where they fell. Of course this was when I was home, living in the country. I could do this even when my son still lived at home. Even when he was a little guy. His dad was home on the weekends then and I did most of the home care during the week. I planned it so that I could do what I wanted on Sunday. It was my day. I loved Sundays!
Since coming to Oklahoma, my Sundays have a much different flavor! My granddaughters both have a list of chores to do during the week — of which, they do almost none during the actual week — saving them all up for Sunday. They have to have them done before they go to bed that night. This means the day is full of reprimands and warnings plus loud noises of vacuum cleaners, washers and dryers (I’ve never heard such loud washers and dryers!). I have a headache every single Sunday from them trying to get out of the chores and us telling them to get on with them. I am irritated at the girls every single Sunday. I hate Sundays here. After 4 or 5 of them, I can safely say that this is the first day that I’ve really wanted to be in my own home. I miss it sorely today.
I’m looking forward to getting back to my home and having my Sundays to myself. Until then, I think I’ll have to start leaving this house on Sundays. I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do, but for my own sanity, I have to go and do something — somewhere else.