Nobody warns you about Sunday evening.

That specific feeling that starts around 5pm.
The weekend isn’t over yet but your brain already knows it is.
The anxiety creeps in quietly.
The emails you didn’t check start mattering again.
The meeting you have Monday morning parks itself in the back of your head.
The freedom you felt Friday at 5pm evaporates in real time.
You’re not even back yet but you’re already gone.
And you sit there trying to enjoy the last few hours of your weekend knowing the whole time that the clock is running out.
Sunday used to be a day.
Now it’s just the waiting room before Monday.
And nobody told you that you’d spend a third of your weekend dreading the end of it.
That’s not a job.
That’s a psychological lease on your time that doesn’t clock out when you do.