For an hour or two on Sunday afternoon, it becomes all about Monday.
Without looking at a clock, I make my lunch, fill my water bottle around 3:00. It's become part of my wiring. I wash the coffee maker and put the grinds in our permanent filter. Then I pull an outfit together. Although this paints a pictures of a fashionista, I remain an elementary school teacher who's wearing the capris and crew necks as long as she can. In Western Maine, in October, my days are numbered, I know.
Being a teacher, it's easy to hate Sundays. In my early years of teaching, my mind would turn on with a start on Sunday. The coming week consumed me and rendered me useless to the whimsy of the weekend. Instruction. Assessment. Classroom Management. This meeting. That paperwork. This student. ETC, ETC.
A Sunday will never replace a Saturday, but by taking the time, I've come to a peaceful place. Being mindful of my needs is a process. It feels good when that process gels.
Life Is Good, unless you're SJ and make a well intentioned suggestion on a tee shirt slogan that goes no where.