Zippy and I have been together a whole lotta years, but he still doesn’t get why I frequently** start feeling low at about 4:30 on Sunday afternoons. Zippy is one of those almost-Pollyanna types who maintains a pretty consistent emotional level. I guess you could say he’s even-keeled. (Except when he’s not, but that’s a whole other topic.)
Zippy’s obliviousness aside, plug “Sunday melancholy” into the Googles and you’ll get 761,000 hits. I’m not alone.
Somehow, that knowledge helps.
** I’m pleased to report that the melancholy has not yet hit me this afternoon.