Sunday nights tend to get me down. It’s thinking about the week ahead. Lamenting the need to wake up early in the morning. Wondering just how it is that so much didn’t get done on the weekend.

But as I sit here, in a peaceful house where I am the only one awake, sweat cooling on my back (getting cold, really), I realize that I need to shift. Sunday nights ought to be like birthday eves – filled with excitement and anticipation about what’s going to happen in the morning. Heck, every night ought to be like that!

So hereby I resolve to savor delicious possibility at night before I go to bed. And maybe I can turn Mondays into birthdays.

What’s your toughest night of the week?

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