We all lead very busy lives, Monday to Friday we spin, twist and turn to try, we run to and fro, we stress and sleep little and rival worker ants and busy bees in our flurry to try and get every thing done.
And when it’s not the job it’s socializing, hobbies, family and housework that keeps our hands occupied and our brains buzzing. The 24 hours of everyday just tick over from one into the next, no pause, no break just a few hours every night we allow our eyes to close and our bodies to shut down.
Before we could surf the net every given hour and our phones lived in our hands or pressed against our ears once a week we had a day off, to reflect, relax and enjoy some undisturbed moments.
When I was a blond haired little girl Sundays was the day the family spent together, no play-dates, no shopping trips, no work … but as time moved by and I grew up shops opened their doors and invited everyone inside to a multicoloured world of commerce and money spending.
As c=jobs changed and become more flexible and less nine to five, people took work home with them and spent Sundays stuck behind a desk. Free-lancers became available twenty-four seven and so did their working hours.
Now I wonder what happened to those 52 days we once had to relax? After all if Sundays have mutated from a day of rest into a day just like the rest, how do we structure a regular day to relax?
So maybe, just maybe, we should just not follow advancement and modern times and learn a lesson from the “good old days” and decide that no one should have our Sundays.
Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week.
Poet Joseph Addison