weekly malady.That would be The Sunday Blues.
The Sunday Blues is what I've long called them, although it's pretty clear others have different names, and more than a few likely don't call them/it anything at all. Named or not, it's still there, they're still there.
My experience with this oddity goes all the way back to high school, when I can honestly recall finding myself down in the dumps, down in the mouth, and just plain down, somewhere around mid-afternoon on each Sunday. It doesn't just sort of creep up on you either, nope. All of a sudden, it's just there.
You're reading the paper, watching TV, staring into the backyard, looking at the dog or cat and wondering what if anything goes through their minds, when zotto!. Like a bolt from that cloud over there, they're here, The Sunday Blues are again poking at you. From staring a the cat, you've now gone to staring at the wall, any wall will do. If there's not one nearby, you need to go and find one. Wall-staring can be an effective method of focusing. Wall-staring is crucial here.Physical manifestations of this mental state may differ, while some may find no outward sign of the inner annoyance whatsoever. With me, and this has always been the case, it starts as a small knot in the gut, that place many of us refer to as the pit of the stomach, which really isn't your stomach at all, since your stomach is much higher up. Location aside, that knot may or may not grow as the hours pass.
Your demeanor may crumble, too, as those hours pass. You can go from feeling rather carefree and in love with life, to "What in hell have I done with my life, is it too late to fix things?"
Just what are we dealing with here?
Simply, it's all about going back to work on Monday morning. There is indeed one strong correlation between your attitude towards your present job and the intensity of The Sunday Blues, though even those who have a genuine love for their job seem to fall victim each week.
There's also the phenomena of residual effect. For example: If you hate your job, then get lucky and find a job you love, The Sunday Blues still come calling, or at least they do so for an extended period of time. Oh, sure, they may not be as strong, as pervasive, and sure, maybe you can chase them away with logic, reason, and a hearty, "Hey, I don't work in that nightmarish job anymore!" but they still come. The beginnings of The Sunday Blues, once within you, seem to stay, they never really completely go away.
You can be in the middle of two-week vacation, somewhere on the other side of the planet. You have a whole week ahead of you and your job, any job, is half a world away. Doesn't matter even a little. Come Sunday, here come The Sunday Blues.
Just like The Summertime Blues, there ain't no cure for The Sunday Blues either. Although I will confess that a good beer or two can take the edge off of things.
What's in the fridge right now? Well, let's take a look:
Sierra Nevada Pale Ale - Simply one great beer. If you've never had it, don't let the sediment on the bottle bottom worry you. It's supposed to be there.
Red Hook Long Hammer IPA - A little more bitter than the above and a bit more body, too. Nice though.
Murphy's Stout - Not Guinness but likely indistinguishable. If buying in four-packs, it can cost 40% less than Guinness.
Miller Lite - It it was it is. It's light and OK for a light.
Leffe Blonde Belgian Ale - This may be one of only two beers I've ever encountered that I personally find close to undrinkable. Unless I got some of a bum batch, the heavy and overwhelming clove - yes, clove - taste of this abbey brewed ale is one which I find hard to imagine anyone liking. Cloves don't belong in beer. Even clove gum or mouthwash isn't as "clovey" as this ale.
