Sunday Blues

It is Sunday, and I am on the plane on my way back from the BlogHer ’06 conference. I had a lovely brunch earlier today in San Francisco with Husband, a friend of his from high school, a friend of mine from high school, and Count Mockula. After brunch, we stood around on the sidewalk eating It’s Its, which are amazing ice cream sandwiches that another friend told me that I had to try the next time I was in San Francisco. The great thing about them is that, unlike practically any other ice cream sandwiches, the sandwich “breads” are oatmeal cookies, not chocolate chip, and the whole sandwich is covered in chocolate. Mockula demonstrated a very good It’s It eating technique, which involves eating off the side of chocolate first, then mushing the cookies together so that the ice cream splurts out (in this case, mint – one of my faves), then licking the excess ice cream. This leaves you with a better cookie-to-ice-cream ratio. Mockula is brilliant.

By now, however, I am in my usual Sunday evening funk. I hate Sunday evenings. The weekend is over and all that lies ahead is a week of crap. It is not just dreading the upcoming week that makes Sunday evenings so wretched. Nope, Sunday evenings are when I can’t help but ruminate over all the things that I fucked up over the course of the week or last month or year that have led me to be displeased with various aspects of my life. This is not anything new; it has been this way for as long as I remember. Bah.