The secret to happy Sunday evenings

I have this problem with Sunday evenings. Round about 3:30, I hit a slump that I sometimes can’t shake until Monday morning. Maybe it’s the weight of the week to come and the knowledge that my happy weekend is waning. Maybe it’s that the sun goes down and I lose that Vitamin D energy.

Or maybe it’s that I’m supposed to rest on Sunday afternoons…meaning no work to keep me busy…meaning that I conk out as soon as I get still...and then as the clock strikes 3:30, I attempt to snap into a chipper, alert state for choir practice, discipleship training and church. If you’ve ever woken me up from a nap, you understand why waking up and coming in contact with people 30 minutes later is a dangerous thing for all parties involved.

To my credit, I’m a morning person. I’m neither mean nor delirious when I get up in the morning. At least I don't think I am.

But the later in the day I fall asleep, the scarier it becomes to wake me up. It’s like Dr. Jekyll becomes Mrs. Hyde. I lash out and don’t even remember what I’ve said or why. After several occurrences last week, I decided I will avoid falling asleep on the couch like the plague because it’s a real detriment to my marriage. And that pretty much means not sitting down at all after about 6 p.m. Sometimes what I say is not necessarily mean but just bizarre. Even after 2½ years of blessed matrimony, Gunter has not gotten used to it.

Back to Sundays. I believe I have discovered the secret to a happy Sunday evening – Diet Coke. It’s as simple as that, my friends. It’s already solved my problem with staying awake in meetings, and now it has become my secret weapon to battling the Sunday evening slump.


Allow me to recount what led to this discovery. Gunter and I had lunch with the Dyes at The Mellow Mushroom yesterday, and everybody knows the greatest drink with pizza is Diet Coke (just like you can’t eat fine Mexican cuisine without sweet tea). So, I downed one Diet Coke at the restaurant and brought home a to-go cup. Gunter had a seminary test to take, so he spent the afternoon at church, and I was left home alone with the sun streaming in the windows...under the covers in bed…reading. With the aid of my handy-dandy Diet Coke, I didn’t come close to nodding off. Miraculous!

So maybe one successful Sunday afternoon is not enough to deem Diet Coke my secret weapon, but it’s a start. And don’t worry, I won’t become an all-out addict. Secret weapons must be used sparingly or they wouldn’t be secret weapons.