Sunday Bloody Sunday

I think I have a love and hate relationship with Sundays. I love them because it's weekend, it's holiday, no work, I can do anything I want to (until 00:00). However, things usually don't turn out like that for me. Sounds impossible but I manage to get this existential rage and indifference at the same time on Sundays. Sundays are the days I mostly,

- hate globalisation,
- hate that there are no dogs or cats on the streets of London,
- hate cars,
- hate restaurants which have misty eyed couples staring or talking in whispers to each other over little candles on the tables,
- hate Coldplay,
- hate all electronic and electrical appliances, most of all computers,
- can't decide what to do for dinner - eat in or out, if out where, what, when etc - and end up eating rubbish at 22:00,
- want to listen to Linkin Park at full volume while singing along at the top of my lungs,
- want to go for a run in the park and fail miserably afterwards,
- want to go to the city centre and then change my mind,
- want to wake up early but never manage to get out of the bed before 11:00,
- want to go to bed early but end up staying up till 01:00 (well it's BBC's fault to put Family Guy on 00:00) ,
- want to be living in a small country town or Paris while knowing at the back of my head that I'd feel the same,
- want to escape to the Bahamas,
- think about going back.