I still remember the never ending boredom of Sunday afternoons in my youth. Sunday was observed as a day of rest. The concept was a good one. The definition was not. No playing with friends. Sunday was a day to stay at home and rest. Bike riding, rope jumping or a swim in the pond were out. Anything that remotely resembled physical activity was considered work. Working on a craft? Did I say "working"? You know that wasn't on the restful list. Sitting quietly and reading the Sunday newspaper was OK. The part I read was the comics and that only took a few minutes. The day wore on.

On the really bad Sundays, we piled in the car and went for a long ride. I was the youngest and had to sit in the middle of the back seat with my legs perched on top of the hump in the floor. My brothers, already on the way to 6 feet, blocked any possible view through the windows. Smoke from my father's cigarettes would drift back. Sometimes it would make me sick and the ride would end. Not a great ending, but preferable to a longer ride.

Today I played games on my computer, worked on a tutorial for my graphics group and wrote this post. Now that's restful.


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