Growing up, every Sunday felt ominous. Even though it was a day off, I would spend it in fear of the Monday to follow, when school would resume,…

Growing up, every Sunday felt ominous. Even though it was a day off, I would spend it in fear of the Monday to follow, when school would resume, homework would be due, and playtime would be drastically reduced. It got to the point where I would want Monday to come, just so I could stop worrying about its arrival and get it over with. This sort of cuts down on potential weekend happiness, but the phenomenon persists for me in a larger scope, too, to the point that my last week of winter vacation has been spent with the specter of school’s resumption looming over me. Even though I know I’m probably spending too much time worrying, the thoughts of biology labs gone awry, essays unwritten, and problem sets unfinished persist in haunting me. I guess the good side of this is that it encourages me to look forward to the start of the semester, so I can stop worrying about phantom assignments and actually start doing them.
– Will

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