Sunday mornings hold confusion for me.

As a child Sunday mornings were a whirlwind of my Mother yelling at us three kids to get dressed for church…always threatening one of us with a dousing of cold water if we didn’t get moving.

When I went away to college Sunday mornings usually started around noon due to the excesses of the night before.  And didn’t include as much breakfast food as it did anything with grease, carbohydrates and coffee…please god give me coffee.

Out in the working world Sunday mornings meant just another day at work.  Watching the regular people of the world…because that has always been how I have thought of people not in retail…come in after church, or going out to breakfast and pick up those things that they needed for Sunday dinner, and for the rest of the week.

During the months of my unemployment I lost track of what day it was.  Each one seemed to be just like the one before in a long grey line of not much going on.  That was the most interesting part of being unemployed….the loss of knowing what day it was.  It really just didn’t matter to know.

And here I am now.  I have become one of those “regular people” that I observed when I was working retail.  I have a Monday through Friday job, with the weekends off.  This became most clear to me Friday night when The Day Walker and I went out to dinner….just like a million others who were tired if making dinner throughout the week.  And then we went grocery shopping…..just as a million others do so that they don’t have to do it Saturday or Sunday.  I have become one of the regular people.