Balance.

Earlier today I wrote my blog on Sunday being a Funday, and how sometimes it doesn't go so well. I wrote before that about how I built this new blog, and was getting back on track to writing full time, and that meaning at least something everyday. I wrote about a story I had begun when I was nineteen and it was a big hit among my friends. A piece I had been very into and nearly heart broken to have lost.

I also wrote how it was time to move forward and let the past lie, let go of the past so I can embrace the future. So I did. Today things didn't go my way for the most. My A/C went out, I've been living in my own sweat for a day and enjoying the pleasant scent of my hot panting dogs, but hey it could just be me. I took my time and contacted the warranty people, I have sat around waiting for a call from some sort of tech group, but they won't get to me until tomorrow, because it's Sunday.

Fine and dandy, I refused to let any of this ruin my day. I did what I had to do to set my household right today, sending my wife and kids to stay yet another couple days out of the house. Lucky me, my wife loves me and brought the kids to visit. So after a big boost to my day seeing the smiling little devils I got to go back in the house and work on making changes to my blog layout and things like that.

Sunday is Funday, even when Cat Norris appears.

I love Sundays. As an adult I have a higher appreciation for Sundays than I did when I was a kid. Sunday meant waking up early, no t.v., stuffy clothes, and off to church. Not only that, but when you come home you have to make sure you finish your homework, eat dinner, and take a bath. Now comes the impending dread. An entire day wasted on things a child has no care for, and lo and behold an entire day of running and playing down the drain! I dreaded Sundays, hell I dreaded Saturday, because Sunday was the day after, and after Sunday--SCHOOL!

It was a dreary every weekend scenario for me for my entire school career, until the day I graduated. I went to the work force, forty hours a week with a little OT. I worked Saturdays, but NEVER Sundays. Work was closed, and I got to do what I wanted. Hung out with friends, went on a date, or spent the day cruising around trying to get into whatever trouble wanted to rear its ugly head. That's what eighteen year olds do, and I loved it.