So, it’s Sunday night. You’ve either just woken up from your post-day drinking nap or exercised self-restraint and ran necessary errands you don’t have the time or energy for during the week, because #adulthood.
While everyone’s cathartic Sunday night routine is a very personal thing, specific to how hungover he or she was during the weekend, here’s a breakdown of a normally introspective one.
4:30 p.m. – Realize it’s nearing Sunday night and consider grocery shopping for the week ahead.
4:35 p.m. – Remember you have a string of first dates from Hinge, Tinder, and randoms, so all the bagged salad you would buy would wilt, shrivel, and die before you could possibly eat it all. Pretend to yourself that’s not a metaphor.
5 p.m. – Walk around the neighborhood a bit to clear your head and gaze into the East River, because you spent your childhood around water and it tends to cheer you up. Hopefully, today isn’t the day you spot a floating, dead hooker.
5:05 p.m. – Nope, just a lot of tourists trying to get onto the IKEA ferry, so same difference.
6 p.m. – Head up to the roof of your apartment to paint your nails and text your parents so they know you’re still breathing.
6:10 p.m. – Realize everyone on your roof is still drinking. And why are they all European?
6:20 p.m. – Those wine bottles look good.
6:25 p.m. – Go back to your apartment to change out of shorts and into a maxi dress that is basically the socially acceptable version of pajamas. Make yourself a drink and bring your laptop back to the roof in a futile attempt to get work done.
6:30 p.m. – Wow, this drink is strong. Whatever.
7 p.m. – Check Instagram. Everyone was either at #pride or in the Hamptons. There is no middle ground, except for all the shots of martinis that look better than what you’re currently drinking. FOMO occurs.
7:05 p.m. – Drink is done. Whoops.
7:10 p.m. – Debate going downstairs to make yourself another, but then you might lose your spot on the roof. This is basically “Sophie’s Choice.”
7:15 p.m. – Go downstairs.
7:20 p.m. – Your roommates bought lime flavored tortilla chips. Fuck.
7:25 p.m. – Grab a handful of chips and exit with your drink in hand before you can do any real damage to the bag.
7:30 p.m. – Back on the roof–and your spot is still there! Huzzah!
7:35 p.m. – Start thinking about the week ahead. And the month ahead. And then the terrifying concept that you have your whole life ahead of you. And are you really living in the moment or are you too concerned with the future to the point that you’re not enjoying the present? And how much does your past define you? Are you making decisions based on habit or this arbitrary idea of who you should be versus who you are?
8 p.m. – Have a full-fledged panic attack about your career path (or lack thereof) and go downstairs to make another drink. It’s getting dark out, so you’re not concerned about the lack of seating.
8:25 p.m. – Come back to the roof TO FIND YOUR SEAT TAKEN.
8:30 p.m. – Wander to your roof’s basketball court because you’ve never seen it and the “new you” you improvised roughly an hour ago doesn’t avoid things because they are foreign concepts to her.
8:35 p.m. – There are no bros here. Why are you standing on an empty basketball court? Why is your drink gone again?
8:40 p.m. – Head back to your apartment, mostly because it has Wi-Fi.
8:45 p.m. – Fall asleep with all your clothes on because you’ve gotten roughly 10 hours of rest this weekend and drank way too much after the gym on a nearly empty stomach.
1:45 a.m. – Wake up. Dammit. Make eggs because that’s all you have to eat in your fridge.
3 a.m. – Fall back asleep again. Monday is looking bright!