Now I work a lot of weekends, therefore when I have a Sunday off, I’m happier than a pig wallowing in muck. Over the past few years, I have developed a perfect system for the perfect Sunday. (Even if my perfect Sunday’s end up being on a Tuesday). It also works whether you’re dying of a hangover and mentally cringing at your drunken actions the night before, or if you’re smugly fresh as a daisy and considering posting a status on Facebook. Good, right?
8.00am – Now, I know, you’ll be looking at your phone in disbelief, wondering what kind of monster recommends getting up for 8am on a Sunday? Bear with me, it’ll become clear. Propel yourself out of bed, and crack on with that list you need to do. Throw a wash on, do some ironing, apply for that job you want, hoover up. There’s something that makes you feel like you’re winning at life when you get up and actually get something done on a Sunday morning.
9.30am – You’ve finished your list; now make yourself a huge breakfast. Doesn’t matter if it’s last night’s pizza, a Full English, croissants, toast and Nutella, whatever you want. It’s Sunday, calories don’t count on Sundays. I think Jesus said so.
10.00am – Now, flop back into bed, put the TV on, get under the blankets and doze off. Naps are practically obligatory on a Sunday, and you’ve already earned it due to your early start.
12.30pm – Wake up again. Check your phone, flick through social media, read the paper, generally act like someone in an advert. End up posting it on Instagram. Hashtag Sunday morning goals. Now, get up, strip your bed and put new bed sheets on. Add a few throw pillows. You’ll thank me later.
13.30pm – Potter round, get something easy on the go for lunch whilst catching up with the group chat. Snort at the memes, get all the gossip and collectively judge everyone else you went to school with.
14.00pm – Go have a bath. Throw in some Lush bath bombs, get some Yankee candles on the go, some Soap and Glory body washes. Maybe a face mask as well. There’s nothing more decadent than an afternoon soak in the bath. Watch some Netflix, have a Bud, eat some sausage rolls, do whatever makes you feel happy and squeaky clean.
15.00pm – Get yourself in your favourite pjs. Shorts and T-shirt, a nightie, fleecy pjs from Primark, whatever makes you the comfiest. Go to your living room, armed with a blanket, some snacks, a boxset, fluffy socks. Build yourself a little nest. Put your feet up, watch whatever you want accompanied with whatever you want to eat. Again, no calories on a Sunday. Turn your phone off, and just be entertained.
18.00pm – Now, if you are still hungover now’s the time to order Dominoes or Just Eat. If you’re not hungover, who cares? As I clearly believe, no calories on a Sunday. Now’s about the time that Sunday night fear kicks in, so the best way to get rid of that bastard is with a treat. If you really don’t want takeaway, whip up something easy and full of cheese, like pasta.
19.00pm – Get back into your nest with your takeaway/pasta/cheese. Read a book, watch some Sunday night TV, check Facebook, whatever keeps you feeling happy and relaxed. I love watching Grey’s Anatomy on a Sunday. It’s as cheesy as my pasta, but it’s SO easy to watch and before you know it, you’re sucked into the storylines and muttering lines such as ‘He clearly needs a bypass! HONESTLY!’ Because clearly, binge watching a season and half makes me a surgical resident.
22.00 – Go to bed, the nice clean one from earlier. Drift off into a sleepy food coma. You’ve done some work, so you can feel smug; you’ve also just relaxed and recharged the mental batteries. You’re ready for the week ahead. You’ve nailed this Sunday thing. Well done.