The Sunday Edge


reigrovyIt’s Sunday, so I do “Sunday” things. I put on some Tom Waits, make coffee and an omelet. I put in a load of laundry and scan the book for Monday’s class.

After an hour, I realize that I have not yet sat down. I’ve eaten standing at my kitchen counter, read my coursebook walking around the flat.

I can’t shake the Sunday Edge.

I have never liked Sundays. They have always been the day before everything starts: school, work, a new week of anxiety and stress. And so even though it is a day off and a day which in Czech almost literally translates to “don’t do anything” I often find myself edgy and glum.

More than that, Sundays have always seemed a rather lonely day. Even in a house filled with people, Sundays seem to me a day when every person seems unavailable, stuck in their own Sunday world.

So I walk around in circles wondering how to deal with the Sunday Edge. How?

Sometimes we drink.

Sometimes we clean.

Sometimes we walk to the mall and get our phone service changed.

I walk down the river towards the center. The day is gorgeous, the sky is blue, the air is crisp. Still, the edge doesn’t go away. If you have ever gone for a late Sunday morning walk in Prague, then you know that nobody does bat-crap crazy like a late Sunday morning in Prague.

The first man I run into is either homeless or has had the most epic Saturday night blowout in Prague’s history. He is eating cheese spread from a container with his fingers. He has not only defecated in his pants, but has gone to the extra trouble of decorating his clothing with it. We make eye-contact, he wants to talk. I keep moving.

Along Náplavka, the river walkway, there are more people. Couples, families, some talking to themselves, some still out drinking from Saturday night. There seems to be a lot of drool. I wonder if this was the best idea. Perhaps I’ve just unwittingly joined Prague’s crazy club. At least at home I can have a normal conversation with the cat. I sally forth.

By the time I get to the mall, there are a lot of people out and about. I try to read their minds. They all seem so content and relaxed. One thing I have always admired about the Czechs is that they enjoy their weekend to the absolute fullest. They worry about work on Monday, not Sunday.

In theory, this is the perfect approach. Enjoy all of your moments, live in the moment. Novel idea.

Enjoy the whole weekend? Even Sunday? I don’t know, sounds pretty radical. Despite that, after walking around the city for another two hours trying to shake the Sunday Edge, I decide to give it a go. I write to the Czech and she suggests a visit to the beer garden.

Two drinks on a Sunday night is crazy talk. The only thing worse than a Sunday afternoon is a Sunday night. But around us there are people laughing and dogs humping each other and others playing Foosball. We have utopenec (pickled sausage), and before I know it, we are lodged in a pleasant chat.

When it gets too chilly, we hit another cafe on the way home. The Sunday Edge still hangs around, but at least it’s kept at bay with good company and conversation. Maybe enjoying a Sunday can be a new “Sunday” thing. In any event, I wonder if that guy cleaned his pants off.

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