Things in the country are slowly going into disarray. Even as two weeks of the lockdown remain, parts of the country are being opened up. There is no method to this madness. There is no good that can come from this. No sooner than we reached a level of being able to handle this crisis that we made things worse for ourselves through haste. If we take one wrong step now, the past month-and-a-half of quarantine will have been for nothing.
But it was none of this that prompted me to record my thoughts today. Instead, it was the recurring observation that in the middle of all this was one curious constant: a Sunday. No matter what, it turns out a Sunday is a Sunday. Perhaps it is because we have been maintaining some semblance of a schedule every day, but come Sunday there is that freeing feeling, that recognition that tomorrow is a Sunday, that one can get up just a little but later than usual, take things a little freer than usual. A Sunday is a Sunday no matter what. But it is even better these days because it is not promptly followed by Monday blues.