When I was younger, I can remember being so excited to go home from school on Fridays.  Monday, and the start of another monotonous week of misery, was always so far away on those carefree afternoons.

But yet after a great day and a half, Sunday rolls along.  For some, Sunday is a relaxing day in which the weekend festivities have already waned, allowing time to lay back and mellow.

For me, however, it always was the symbol that my weekend, and fun, was giving way, yet again, to less sleep and more school.  Sundays were never fun because the inevitable and looming Monday was always in the back of my mind.

Do me a favor: Rake all those beautifully colored leaves into a nice big pile, then shove 'em. Thanks.

I hate the fall, and the winter for that matter – mostly because the cold air rushes in, taking with it my love of the sun, baseball, and enthusiasm for being outside. Problem is, I also lament the months leading up to it, for the same reason I hate Sundays.

August was always ruined because school started at the end of it.  And September, though still warm, was yet another sign that baseball was now as far away as it could possibly be.

Now that I am out of school, one negative aspect is gone, but yet here I sit on a boring Sunday in what is now technically autumn, with the recent realization that I have to wait through 5.5 agonizingly cold months to get back to doing the only thing I really care about. Gotta suffer for it, I guess.

Note: If you live in Florida, and none of this really applies, keep laughin.  One word: hurricane.