Sunday, that's my funday, my I don't have to run day (day 12)

For years now I have suffered from self-diagnosed, untreated, Sunday anxiety.  Oh, the day starts off quiet and unassuming.  But then, the hours creep by and I start doing math.  You know, the kind of math you do when your alarm clock goes off ~ if I hit snooze two more times and don't blow dry my hair, I'll totally be on time.  Or, the clock is actually fifteen minutes fast, so if I get 18 minutes more sleep, I'll  only be running three minutes behind.  I find as four p.m. on Sunday approaches, I am counting down until I have to go to bed and lie sleepless in the dark as I await dawn replaying all the things I didn't get to over the weekend.  There are never enough hours in Sunday, and after lunch, I swear someone is pressing fast forward on my weekend. This is something I am working on, and hopefully will improve without medical intervention and heavy medication.  For now, I'll amp up my wine consumption on Sunday starting right after breakfast, and maybe I won't even notice what day it is.

This Sunday was great.  We took the kids swimming to a really awesome indoor water park type venue.  All three of the lovelies had a blast; I had a blast watching them be little water monkeys. And, I had the opportunity to sit in the hot tub with my girlfriend and shoot the breeze a little bit. Complete aside, I'm going to need a new bathing suit as mine no longer fits quite right.  I'm thinking I'm going to look in the tween girl section for the top and the husky boy section for the bottoms.

Funday stats:
Food: Bean and cheese burrito, one slice of ridiculously bitter orange, pretzels, pasta with red sauce, garlic bread.
Movement: Swimming, chasing toddler around swimming pools, swinging toddler around in water ~ 'cause he's a swinger, hot-tubbing, laundering, cooking; I find you can make most things seem like an activity if you add 'ing' to the end; to this end, I will admit that I am currently blue-chairing