I woke this morning remembering how unsettling Sundays used to be. Like most people, it signified the end of the weekend. Only that in my case right after Sunday dinner, my workweek started. Which meant being up for 24-27 hours straight.

Sunday I would fit in the last of the family activities and home/yard chores into the morning and afternoon. Dinner and then work overnight till 6 or 7 am Monday. That was the beginning of my workweek.

For the last decade, I would pull an all-nighter after being up all day to flip back into night shift mode for the rest of the week. Then on Thursday at 7 am when my workweek would end I’d sleep for 3-4 hours in the morning after work. Stay up till 11 pm, sleep, and wake up the next morning, to get back into a day mode for the weekend with family and friends.

Because I quickly discovered nobody would be around to interact with me if I stayed on a night shift schedule throughout the weekend.

When I started that schedule, I was a bit younger, but in the last years, it took a heavy toll. But I knew I had to hold on to get where we wanted to be.

So here I am retired now and Sundays have returned to a normal schedule. When I get tired this evening I can go to sleep instead of war trying to flip my body and brain into some twisted switch to nocturnal existence.

Life is good again.