How I Learned to Stop Worrying about the Sunday Slump and Love Mondays

Sundays used to be Dementor Day for me.

It's be a bright, sunny weekend, full of fun and adventure. And then the fog would roll in. The Sunday slump would start as my brain realized Monday was approaching. Monday was an end to fun and relaxation and a return to the boo-stressful work week. As Sunday evening progressed, the dementors filled my apartment and sucked out all the joy. Filled with dread, I'd find myself so anxious by bedtime that I'd have trouble sleeping. No amount of chocolate could make me feel better, and my patronus just snuggled its way under the blankets, hiding and doing jack shit to defend me.

Thankfully, I got past that. Step one was realizing that the reason I dreaded going back to work was because I was at a job that was as soul-sucking as the dementors themselves. So, I quit that job and got a different one. But even in my new job, I'd find that Sundays were still a struggle from time to time. And it frustrated the hell out of me. We only get seven days in a week, and really only like 2.5 in a weekend, and I was spending almost a whole day each week just cranky.

It was bullshit. So, I made a plan. And changed my attitude. Here's how I fight that Sunday Slump.

Throughout the weekend:

1. Start Friday : My Monday prep starts Friday. I have a "cleanup" list that I make sure I've done by end of week before I leave the office, to make my Monday morning as efficient and chill as possible. That means some variation of the following:
• My inbox column for the week is fully sorted into the proper folders or flagged.* 
• I've peaked ahead at next week's calendar and made sure I have any reminders set and any meeting prep for Monday already done. I also sort out overlaps and block off time if I know I'll need to prep before something. 
• My desk is tidied and my trash is emptied. I also double check that I didn't forget any food in the office fridge that might go bad over the weekend. 
• Workout clothes for the next week are tucked in my drawer #noexcuses
• Double check stats to make sure nothing looks amiss going into the weekend (so I don't come in to a mess).
• Send out a reminder to the offshore team to make sure they have a productive Monday before I arrive. 
2. Hydrate : At work, I'm constantly drinking water. Fill the cup, drink the cup, frantically run to the restroom between meetings, refill the cup, rinse and repeat. On the weekends, the cup is usually filled with something less ideal for my bod. Foggy brain kicks in. Forcing myself to drink more water helps me be sharp for the new week ahead.
3. Chill the fuck out : I need the weekend to recharge. Even if we're super busy and running about, I make sure to take a little time to chill. That can mean a nap, reading a book, doing a puzzle, grabbing brunch, watching reruns of The Office, or whatever. 
4. Get my shit together : Cleaning the apartment, doing laundry, getting groceries, running errands... the weekend is the time to cut any future stressors off at the pass. If I know it'll be a busy week, getting organized over the weekend makes everything less hectic. 

Sunday, bloody Sunday:

1. Look ahead : The best part about Sunday? It's DAY ONE. Day one of a fresh week. That means scoping out the calendar and getting excited about all the things in the coming six days. One way to stay happy is to look forward to all the good things to come. 
2. Suit up and dish it out : Picking out my outfit and packing my lunch for Monday means ten extra minutes of sleep the next day. No brainer. Lay that shit out in advance. (I also usually pack something extra fun for Monday lunch - like, a Snapple lol because that's my old woman treat to myself #cuzIm90)
3. Keep calm and carry on : Yeah, I give myself a little extra pampering. And NO that does NOT have to be expensive (don't let that "treat yo'self" attitude ruin your finances!) - there are 52 Sundays in a year, ain't nobody got the cash for that nonsense. To me, my pampering is often my at-home $5 spa treatment: a foot soak in epsom salts and a face mask, plus a fresh coat of nail polish if I'm feeling feisty.** Sometimes it's an extra long, candlelit shower (sorry, environment) or lounging to a rom com. A little something special to get the week going. 
4. Move it : Some exercise, whether it's a full workout or just going for a walk or doing 20 sit ups. Big or small, a little something to get the blood pumping. All endorphins, no caffeine.
5. Sleep on it : No stalling! Monday is coming whether you like it or not, so you may as well be well rested and not tired AF. Get into bed earlier than normal and forcing myself not to putz around is key. Phone away, rest up. 

Smurfette, going on 30!

But even the best laid plans of mice and men sometimes flop and the dementors come knocking at one's door anyways. When I find myself starting to go down that Sunday Slide, I pull out the big guns...***

1. Rationalize : I love travelling, and going out to eat with the beau, and hitting up happy hour with the girls, and buying myself little presents. You know what all those things require? Money. You know what gives me money and helps me do all those things? My job. If I ever get cranky about having to work, I remind myself that without that work, I wouldn't be able to afford those other things so... thanks, work! I give them my time, and they give me the money to live it up. It's a fair trade, so why begrudge it?
2. Face the fears : Sometimes you've just got to ask yourself: What about the week is really stressing you out? Is it a big presentation? Or too many meetings? An annoying coworker? Something you put off the week before? Figure out what it is. Take some time to think about what approach you can use to make things less difficult. Remind yourself that you're a badass and in the grand scheme, it's not that big of a deal and you'll go crush it. Basically: tell that anxiety fairy to bugger off.
3. Perspective : Having worked some less than ideal jobs, I always remind myself that nothing now is really that bad. Some good old fashioned "it could be worse" can go a long way. AND better yet, I remind myself about all the things I love about my job. How it's challenging and exciting, and how my team can be really awesome, and how much we've accomplished, etc. Taking a minute to refocus on the good is important. 
4. One of Seven, Two of Seven : Monday is one of seven days. Don't let it be the bad guy, and don't let Sunday be the sidekick bad guy. Bad guys shouldn't get sidekicks. If I start feeling that dread, I remind myself that by being a pouty bitch for two days a week, I'm screwing up 104 days in my year. That's a LOT of days. So don't slide. Don't lose that time. Chin up and don't look back and regret all that time you burned moping. 
5. Good jams : There's nothing a little dancing can't cure. 

This isn't to say that I always love my job. And that I don't still have some Sundays where I whine and bitch about going back to work. Sometimes, my job is very frustrating and sometimes I spend my weekend-end antsy. Life doesn't always go perfectly to plan. But there's no point in wasting valuable time worrying, you may as well just try to be your best. It was fellow Hufflepuff Newt Scamander who also believed that worrying means you suffer twice. And if I had to pick someone to fight dementors with, he'd be a pretty good candidate. So, let's take back Sunday, friends -- Expecto Patronum!

* "Inbox zero" is a lie they tell children and a white rabbit I refuse to chase. But when things are sorted properly, it makes life feel less overwhelming!

** You can get epsom salts and a plastic tub for a foot soak, as well as nail polish all at the dollar store. And a face mask is usually only $2 - $3 at your local drug store - if you find one you like, they often sell a bottle of similar treatments. So if it becomes a regular thing then you can buy in bulk! Also, the foot soak bin you can obviously reuse, and same with the nail polish.  So really, it's less than $5 to have a little treat yo'self moment. 

*** In terms of attitude, not like real guns. Because, I mean, we already have enough of a gun problem so.....

Please Don't Go, Kitchen Couch

From one of my biggest anxieties has sprung my newest favorite-thing-that-I-never-knew-I-needed: the kitchen couch.

A fascinating trend has sprung up since dating the beau: whenever we host an event, it tends to become a "first annual." The annual wine & cheese night, hosting Seder every Passover, a yearly Friendsgivinukkah feast, etc - there's still arguments that the crawfish boil from last summer needs to become an annual affair (#becausecrawfish). The problem is, after a few repeat gatherings started to occur, I began to internally freak out that people would get bored. You know, tired of the same old soiree. Sometimes as an "annual" the ability to switch things up is just limited by nature.

So, due to my rising panic and fear of bored visitors, I started trying to switch up anything that I could. Tablescapes, attire theme, guest list*, signature cocktails, and... furniture arrangements.

Cue me frantically disconnecting and dragging half of our large L-shaped couch into the kitchen one day, while the beau was out making a last minute grocery run for an upcoming party. I quickly rearranged all the other furniture and tablescaped. He was bound to love it, I told myself. And if he didn't, well, I had already rearranged the whole apartment so, too bad, it was too late.

His immediate reaction, and the eventual reaction of the guests** was pretty much the same: "So, a couch in the kitchen, huh? That's interesting...." But hear me out!

Having a sofa in the kitchen combines two of my favorite things: eating and lounging (#wheninrome). It allows you to be a culinary voyeur, watching the intimate comings and goings of one of the most essential rooms in the house - from a comfortable and interesting vantage point. It's a room that serves happiness and sustains life. Where tradition meets necessity, and where hunger goes to die. Why wouldn't you want to perch and play witness?

Besides, the beau loves to cook - and I love being fed. So why not move my feeding zone closer? Save the step of transporting the food? Cut out the serving dishes and the middleman and just give a gal a spoon!

True, it's also a room of mess and scraps and grease. A battle royale of scents. A spill and stain nightmare. And oh sweet lord - those crumbs! All these things make a kitchen couch a temporary joy. It cannot survive long in this non-native habitat. But like many such momentary things, it is therefore all the more enjoyable.

I say no shame, only semi-functional furniture, moved in a way that optimizes joy.  (I'm sure there's some hippie self-help book that preaches something similar out there.) Nested under a large set of windows, a perfect lake breeze keeps kitchen-couch at a perfect temperature. On the weekend, sunshine makes for a most content spot to roost. A glistening lake out the corner of one eye, a batch of brownies out the other. A literal heaven. A perfect pair.

((In fact, KC & the Sunshine Band? Probably stood for Kitchen Couch & the Sunshine Band. Just saying... think about it.))

Yes, kitchen-couch and I only shared a few beautiful days nestled up, as the holiday season approached, but I look back fondly at our time together. Some sunlight, a good book, snacks on snacks on snacks. If only the food mess hadn't become such a (literal) sticking point, I might still have a couch in our kitchen to come home to...

I stand by my choice: kitchen couch love is true love <3

* Guest lists for gatherings have become a slippery slope for me. I hate leaving people out, but sometimes there's just a limited amount of space, especially for meal related / sit-down dinners. And if something is an annual, it's not like you can just start excluding someone, so you just add more and more until you realize, whelp, there's just no spare but we'll figure it out! (Note: this is secretly my favorite problem to have - may I be lucky enough to continue to have many friends in close proximity so I can have problems like this. I WILL find a way to fit you ALL!) 

** As our party raged on, I continually hailed friends to join me on the awkwardly low cushiony oasis. Given the rising temperatures in our ever-more-crowded apartment (radiator heat is a cruel mistress), the spot grew steadily more appealing, for it was also next to one of the few open windows. A delightful breeze, a front row seat to all the action happening in both rooms, this corner space was a perfect party perch. By the end of the night I had a few converts, and a bemused beau who agreed to let me keep it for a little while longer. (Likely because I get extremely pouty and bearish in the winter months, and any little thing that can bring me joy, he tends to oblige. Because he's a good fella.)