Since I was a kid, I hated Sundays. Being the pastor's daughter, it meant that my dad had spent until midnight on a Saturday preparing his sermon and preparing the bulletin and that he was now completely exhausted. My dad was asleep before lunch was over and my mom would undress down to her slip: (remember slips?) and take an afternoon nap. My older sister would read in her bed, and I would hate my life. No one to play with...nothing to do...sigh.
Then, I grew up and married someone very not unlike my older sister who is happy to lay in bed (or on the couch watching a Bear's game) while I...sigh. I have this crazy nervous energy and also a desire to finish everything that could not be finished througout the rest of the regular week (not very Sabbath-like of me). So today, after teaching the kid's sunday school class, I came home, put the kids down for a nap (and the husband in front of the game) and then cleaned out the car. Our car is gross. I'm talking rotten bananas and fishy crackers and spilled coffee (towers of half-empty, to-go coffee cups). I'm talking stuff we meant to take to the Salvation Army mixed with stuff we took to the pool all summer (is it Fall now?) mixed with more fishy crackers.
And now that is done. I vacuumed it and wiped it down and threw out all the crackers. And then I went to get my daughter at her friend's house, had some wine with the mom, chatted with an old college buddy, and now I'm about to watch a movie with the husband. Now THAT is a productive Sunday. Forget that boring nap stuff. ;) I'll sleep when I'm dead. That is on a plaque I saw once. I'm gonna get that plaque and hang it up in my kitchen...even though it's theologically incorrect. But whatever.