I have always found Sunday night to be a depressing time. For a procrastinator it was a constant time of doom during school years, facing homework still to be done. Friday was so comfy with the whole week-end ahead and then it was time to face the music. I would swear each week I wouldn’t put things off the next weekend. I was lying to myself. I cultivated that practice into a lifestyle. If my lifespan were to follow the same pattern, I wouldn’t die until I was 150.
Somehow I know that were I to be given a fresh start at life, the second time around AmeliaJake would be sitting here on a Sunday night staring at the blank first page of an essay or the first problem in a math assignment. Sigh.
If Teddy Roosevelt were my age now, he would have been dead for 10 years. That doesn’t exactly follow logically, but it is a nice little factoid.