Sunday night is not too late

It has been a bit of a stir-crazy, wheels-spinning weekend.  Nothing quite got off the ground.  Too much sleeping in, too much weather disappointment.  A general reluctance to spend an hour on the metro getting to where I wanted to be...and so went nowhere.  Nothing really worth complaining about, especially since it's all my own fault.  But in the past five minutes, at least, in a burst of frustration-fueled activity, I have managed to locate my chequebook, after a many-weeks search, so perhaps this is the start of a change.  The last few hours of the weekend will not be lost to melancholic feelings of futility. Rooms will be tidied!  Emails will be answered!  Things will be crossed off the to-do list!



Does everyone feel this way on Sunday night? I know it is technically the weekend, but it has to be the worst night of the week.