Bridget Sullivan

Sunday scaries still happen on Sunday even though Monday is a holiday. So is that a bonus two days of scaries? I suppose so. If only we could live in a world where this silly phrase does not exist. It is possible. I have had freedom from the shackles of the what I prefer to call Sunday dread instead. It better captures the feelings. Scaries makes it sound like something in a children’s bedtime story. Something lurking under a bed, it might have hundreds of eyes, long scraggly nails and greasy knotted hair, just waiting, barely breathing to stay silent, ready to pounce the moment the child in the story drifts into a peaceful slumber. But in the bedtime story this is a happy end, an escape, the monster under the bed turns out to be a friend or decides to move to the neighbors house, either way it is all smiles and rainbows in the end. But, Sunday dread, it is something worse than a monster under the bed, it lives in your heart and head. There might not be a happy end. How long this monster occupies your space is unknown, it is a story with no end as you are living in the middle between when the monster moved in and is a tenet that occupies your space for free. Time to boot the squatter out.