Everyone looks forward to a day off, that once-a-week when we can wake up late and take things at a more leisurely pace than on working weekdays. More often than not this falls on a Sunday and, maybe because of the name we attach to the day, our expectations hang on this solar body hanging itself from the skies for our delectation.

Opening our eyes to the selfish conceit that we be embraced by the brightness (not necessarily the warmth, considering the time of year) of this daytime star, we unwrap our warm bodies from the blankets that cuddled and comforted us through the coldness of the night. As we approach a window on the world, our mood immediately clouds over when we realize that the day is out there but not the sun. The calender deceived us when it slotted the gap between Saturday and Monday with a Sunday. For the down-to-earth amongst us, a pencil suffices to rename the misnomer to Clouday.


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