sunday nights

I am in a fight with Sunday nights. We're not speaking. Why, you ask? While never my favorite point of the week, they seem much worse as of late. Because Sunday afternoons are when the husband and I must part for the week (or sometimes two). And Sunday nights are when it sinks in.

I fear that once all of this is over -- the back and forth, the up and down I-95, and the weekly heartbreak -- I will still have a sickly feeling in my stomach on Sundays for years to come. Sort of a Pavlov's dogs reaction if you will.

I'm going to need some serious rehabilitation in order not to want to punch Sundays in the face.