Old habits die hard
It’s over ten years now since I worked for an employer.
Since then I ran my own little business which was too fucking successful and it meant I was working all the daylight hours, and some of the darker ones too. I gave up the business as it was too like hard work.
Since then I have been living the life I deserve – no fucking work but still collecting the old pension. Nice.
There is still one little hangover from the employment days though. I still get that sinking feeling on a Sunday evening.
Thinking back, I suppose Mondays have been a drag since I started school. So from the age of five, or whatever age it was, I have been dreading Sunday evenings because the next thing to come down the track is Monday Morning.
In school, Sunday evening meant a frantic dash to two days worth of homework and dreaming up excuses why it wasn’t finished. Then for many years I had to submit timesheets and travel claims which meant a Sunday evening frantically trying to invent mileages and filing in forms.
Even now, I still get that sinking feeling on a Sunday evening where I do a soul search to try to remember forgotten homework or wondering whether I will get away with another week’s grossly exaggerated mileage.
Old habits die hard.
Of course these days I get the lovely glow when I remember that Monday morning now means as long a lie in as I want. I just wish I could get the glow without the panic.
I shall console myself later by listening to the traffic reports.
Nowadays I just love hearing about traffic chaos as I sit in my cosy chair.
Heh!
I LOVE listening to traffic reports in the morning! Hehehehe!
All the time knowing full well my morning routine consists of watching the morning news until 0900 then listening to the Glenn Beck show on the radio until noon. Then my day starts and I can think about going out and about in my Ford.
I love being retired!
bastards…we had ice on the road today in traffic crawling on the roads and always one hero in a honkin’ big suv whips round and causes the accident that just boots my monday morning
one of these days i’ll be retired…one of these days *peaks across the abyss of a few more years*
I know the feeling well, it effectively turns the weekend into one day. School was what really ruined Sundays for me, more so than work. I found that once I broke the habit of tuning into Sunday radio and television, in favor of internet based media, which had the effect of cocooning myself from the outside world, the dread feeling was diminished.
Throw on a few Pat Kenny podcasts on Sunday and that will sort you out 😛
Brianf – Got up around midday. Had a couple of mugs of tea to whet the whistle and then went for a stroll around the village. Came home had a doze and another couple of mugs. This indeed is the life!
Cat – If it’s any consolation I have had to tolerate the best part of forty years of traffic chaos, rain, sleet, hail and snow. I have earned this the hard way.
Gammagoblin – I suppose it’s a good thing Glenroe has vanished? That was a real Sunday marker. As for listening to The Plank – I’d rather suffer the traffic, thanks.
Don’t have strong feelings about Sundays one way or the other. ‘course, the same goes for my work, so there you go.
Actually, I thought I would pop round and wish you a Merry Christmas!
I remember how fond of the holiday you were when you were but a small
bastardone…Thanks for that GD. Thanks a fucking lot. Some of us poor fucks, still live in dread on Sunday evenings, for real. Yes, we still have to do the weekly drudge ’till Friday. We don’t even have the luxury of knowing when we’ll be able to ‘pack it all in’ and ‘go to grass’, because our pensions are shot to fuck, extra taxes, less income, property values gone down, savings depleted, and the retirement age is moving further into the distance (thanks FG/Lab (cunts)). There might not even be an old age pension when we get there. So go on enjoy it. You will be the last of your kind. Just think of the poor buggers out there who are supporting the whole pile of shite.
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Slab:
Good post. Much of the first world has turned into a pile of shit populated by shit-people who breed, get arrested, and cash welfare checks.
I often left the homework to Sundays after tea and experienced headaches as I racked my brains to complete one-and-a-half foolscap pages for the assigned English essay. My father sometimes helped me with the Maths exercises. I never liked rising early on Mondays to get ready for school. I never enjoy traffic reports. When in Ireland I prefer to listen to Lyric FM at that time of the morning.
Dad – Thanks very fucking much. And a Happy Easter to you [and yours. Heh!]
Slab – I am indeed enjoying life while I can. Just remember if the Euro goes belly up and my pension becomes worthless, I’ll be down on O’Connell Bridge with my paper cup, along with the rest of them.
Ramrod – Don’t forget people at the top who milk the system and then fuck off to the Bahamas or somewhere, leaving us to pick up the pieces?
Ger – I always seemed to have a mental blank on Sunday nights that would only clear on Monday morning when I would suddenly realise I hadn’t done that essay or whatever. And Lyric FM run traffic reports. 😉
GD, I’ll probably, already be there. I will keep you a spot if you bring the bottle in the brown paper bag.
Hee hee – smugness – I’m immune to the sinking Sunday feeling after years of working odd shifts.
Of course the downside is that I’m probably looking forward to Monday because I’m working the whole weekend.
Grandad:
Don’t forget the people in the middle who always seem to be “politically correct” and never want to offend anyone.