Sundays are hell for the single girl. (Or at least every other Sunday is for me.)

Sundays are meant to be spent langushing in bed till late, cuddled up with that special someone. Eventually pulling yourselfs out of bed because coffee with Baileys, and the newspaper calls. It’s a day to see who can create a bettter omlette, or if it’s just easier to go to the local diner, because then at least you don’t have to do the dishes.

It’s a day to be spent doing the miscellaneous stuff that needs to be done around the house, but it’s really not too bad because your working towards a small common goal together. Picking at each other for each others quirks when it comes to laundry or organizing cabinets.

It’s a day not to make too big of plans just in case the outdoors is calling, and it sounds like a good idea to go do nothing but burn gas in the cars gas tank, not neccessarly because you are going somewhere, but because you are just having fun. It’s a day to be spent curled up on the couch, watch some tv and snooze.

It’s a day to lounge around the house in sparse clothing. To make love on a whim, and enjoy the leisure time spent together with your signicant other. It’s a day to take the time to do the things together that you might not feel like or have time for during the week. It’s a day for shared showers and making out like your teenagers.

When your single it’s quite different….

It’s a day for laying in bed till late, not because you don’t want to pry yourself away from the warm body next to you, but because it ticks away a few more minutes/hours of the day. It’s a day of standing in the middle of your kitchen trying to come up with enough want to actually make breakfast for one, or just settle on leftover Chinese, because your single and can do that.

It’s a day to spend cleaning your house and getting obessive about the tiny things because no one eles is around to critique or care. Or do just the opposite and ignore the dustbunnies and dishes, because once again, it’s just you.

It’s a day spent a good deal on the phone because you are lonely and your inwardly dying for one of your girlfriends to come and drag you away to the mall, or just come over and watch a chick flick and diss on men.

It’s a day not to care if you have shaved your legs or not, because you aren’t going to be getting any so it dosen’t matter anyways. It’s a day to put away the lipstick and the perfume, because no one is around to see what you look or smell like. It’s a day to just enjoy lounging around the house in a mismatched cami and boyshorts. It’s a day to feel the impact of being alone.