Monday, July 30, 2012

New lifestyle calls for elimination of 24 hours

Le sigh. Sunday deemed itself effective, once again, in begrudging me of my productivity. It's a skill that the holy day has honed to perfection over the ages as humanity continues to fight the fruitless Sunday battle. Shit's never gonna change. Lazy Sundays - redundant, no?

I'm not surprised, mad or ashamed at what the fin to my weeks has recently come to: They're a mix of shitty terrific reality TV shows (Queer Eye for the Straight Guy today), light-reflecting grease-filled hair, and optional (nonexistent) showers. Sundays are occasionally marked with a futile attempt at cleaning and/or crossing off some of those tasks that linger heavily on my to-do list. It's a silly lie to myself that lasts no more than 17 minutes; by which point either a sudden bout of narcolepsy strikes or the Internet calls my name. I think that many share the same weekly experience. (Y/N?)

From age 4 to 13-ish (vague.. I'm unsure as to when the whole "church" policy sort of faded away) Sunday meant church. Church meant waking up early and doing things that, as a kid, neither piqued my interest nor did they involve chillzone, eating, or sleeping. I dreaded it. Not to mention the unbearable religious education classes in a chilly parish church basement alongside my peers whose interest in their religious upbringing was closer to none than some. An hour-long class marked another sad concluding weekend and what I saw as a waste of a day to come. Even after the whole "church" thing ended for me, Sundays remained as they were: slow and sad, thus purposefully uneventful due to a stubborn reluctance to admit that tomorrow was Monday. Any attempt at, well, anything, was weighed down with the heavy Monday burden and the belittling tick-tock of a clock that reminded me of what lay ahead: five whole days straight without one single Saturday.

It wasn't until recently that I finally accepted Sundays for what they are. For me, there really is no point in trying to do more than necessary on a Sunday . The trying turns into giving up and the giving up turns into a feeling of defeat and the feeling of defeat trails on your ass through the early week. Why there is a correlation between my completion of scrubbing the bathroom floor and my self-esteem, I am unsure, but I find that trying to get shit done on a Sunday has never, and will never, be a thing. (OK Gretchen?? Mean Girls anyone!?) It's a day of hardcore rest and softcore self-indulgence.

That acceptance led me to my fresh-to-death lifestyle and proposed self-help book; I plan to call it The Six-Day Week: Make the Most of Your Life By Continuing to do Absolutely Nothing on Sunday. The back will read, "Smith's new plan is refreshingly rejuvenating. Her guilt-free approach to life through elimination of the seventh day is incredibly innovative." - New York Times. "A must-read for anyone who thinks that working out on a Sunday while trying to nurse an incurable hangover is an OK idea. Deeply thought-provoking. Sundays - if they do not cease to exist - will never be the same." - USAToday. "A fine piece of self-help literature. I advise you to not to attempt to read The Six-Day Week on a Sunday," -NY Daily News.

Inside the book will be tips and advice on transforming your life to avoid feeling like a pile of lard on Sunday while still enjoying the same things that piles of lard do. The book will discourage readers from homework, Microsoft Excel, and errands while encouraging simple pleasures like four-hour naps and staring into space. There will be easy-to-follow steps toward the perfect Sunday and readers will learn how to fill eight hours with absolutely nothing.

I think it's genius and could go for billions, what about you guys? IDK, maybe it's just better to tell everyone to CTFO (chill the fuck out) every once in a while. But it's easier said than done. I can only share that, since following my own Six-Day Week plan, life has gotten a lot better.

I'm seeing now that the title sounds like something that you'd find in the book section of Urban Outfitters next to the flasks with offensive and inappropriate photos of Native Americans and useless tchotchkes and knick-knacks that were made overseas but it's okay because they have funny slogans and/or mustaches on them. But whatever, gotta start somewhere! I don't think CEO and Douchebag Richard Hayne would mind taking off Sundays to do what he does best. That is, nothing good. Would the six-day plan work for him?

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