Originally posted on Yonderfield:
I’ve often wondered if our fathers in ancient times perceived a certain “feeling” to certain days of the week. For me, for my entire remembered life, Mondays have had a certain feel. Fridays have a certain feel. Certain Saturdays have a feel. And all Sundays have an indelible and not always pleasant feel.
That “Sunday Feel” was shaped in large part by my experience in America’s public schools. Sunday night was the night before freedom ended. It was the night when I rued my Friday and Saturday excess while my homework languished in my three-ring binder, untouched and un-thought-of. Until nine p.m. on Sunday night.
And then after I became a man and became a Christian, Sunday took on an additional feel. The feel of anything but a day of “rest.” A day of ceaseless activity, of wearing uncomfortable clothes to expensive buildings to hear imported strangers give mostly irrelevant…
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