Everybody seems to dislike Sundays. It’s almost universal. It should be a good, restful day but somehow it’s ruined by the sad realisation that the weekend is past its mid-point and by the painful anticipation of the approaching Monday. I wanted to say it’s more of a self-fulfilled prophecy created by our glass-half-empty imaginations than anything else. But I’m an optimistic person who likes Mondays, and I’m still mysteriously affected by the Sunday blues.

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