I feel a little bit like Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes when I say that Sunday has never been my favourite day of the week. Though I canít say with complete positivity that I hate Sundays, I have yet to think of one in which anything particularly good has happened to me. For me, Sunday is a day that I usually find myself so preoccupied with the upcoming week that I really have no inclination to enjoy the day. More than that, there is a certain level of hostility that seems to befall me on Sundays. Though I canít say Iíve ever been the cuddliest of personalities (there are a few exceptions), I seem to get extra grumpy. Things and people just seem to bug the ever-loving shit out of me on Sunday. Part of it, I suppose, comes from my upbringing. I was raised in a Christian household, and though my mother wasnít fanatical, Church on Sundays was the norm for us as kids. I have to say that while there are some people from that part of my life that I respected and enjoyed being around; I found the whole thing to be a sham. Again, thatís not to say that Iím anti-God or anything like that. To this day I practice my own faith, in my own way. I just have a problem with the concept of dressing up in clothes that youíd never wear anywhere else, putting on smiles regardless of how you felt, and listening to things you really disagreed with all the while nodding your head like a good little boy should and calling that the ďreal you.Ē I realize that not all Churches are like this, but mine was and I hated it with a passion. Needless to say, I was never one for hanging around after services to chat with the other parishioners. In fact, Iím pretty sure that I may have set one or two world records with how fast I got myself out of there. Yet no matter how fast I fled, the cloud of irritation stemming from the entire experience would settle over my head for the rest of the day and sometimes even into the night causing me to reacquaint myself with my old friend insomnia. The only reason I mention any of this is that itís Sunday night (actually Monday morning now as Iím writing this) and once again Iíve spent the entire night lying in my bed looking up at my ceiling, grumpy as all hell and begging for sleep to come and wondering why this always seems to happen to me on a Sunday.