ManicDDaily

It’s that dreaded-end-of-vacation-Sunday night.  A sick feeling drips from the back of my eyes into the center of my stomach.  Dread.  Anxiety.  Stress.   I remember suddenly all the things I was sure I would have plenty of time to do over the last few days, and simply didn’t.  What?  Do?  Remember?  Care about?

Uh-oh.

So now it’s back-to-work-Sunday-night, and any glow of vacation has somehow transformed into an ulcerous slow burn.

It’s a feeling that is probably nearly universal.

I’m guessing that even Barack Obama, as he heads back from Honolulu to DC, feels a certain queasiness.

Janet Napolitano has undoubtedly been feeling it for days.

And what about all the other people I spend virtual time with?  Is Robert Pattinson happy to be going back to LA after a holiday at home in London?  LA is certainly sunnier.   But it was announced today that he is supposedly in the top running for an award for Worst Actor of 2009 (a “Razzie”), so he can’t be feeling too great.

What about all those students going back to school?  It may be fun to, like, see friends, but getting up and going to class where you’re not allowed to text, talk, or sleep, is, like, a bummer.

And the teachers.  It’s probably pretty difficult to imagine “bright, shining, morning faces,” when you know you are going to be faced with glum, sullen, sleepy faces, and possibly, a metal detector.

In New York City, the discomfort of this end-of-vacation-Sunday-night is compounded by a vicious, flesh-biting cold.  (Which, frankly, casts all those narratives about the wonders of frigid vampire embraces into serious doubt.)  Who is going to be able to stand to even go out tomorrow morning?  And why won’t it just snow three feet and close the City down?

The only person in my world who seems truly untroubled by the dread of this Sunday night is my little old dog, Pearl, depicted below.  And even she seems to be having trouble sleeping.

Wakeful Pearl

But not much.

Not So Wakeful Pearl

If you like elephants as much as dogs, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson.  Thanks.