For a long time, I used to dread the weekends.
On weekdays, at least I had the need to go to work to get me out of bed, whether late or not. At least I'd be up, so that I might do something in the evening before heading home.
It was the weekends that were hard. I'd stay in bed until mid-afternoon, because what did I have to get up for anyway? I'd do my laundry and my groceries and not much else, spread over two days.
What's amusing is how radically the feeling has changed, after only one good weekend, where I got up both days and did some things.
Now it's the weekdays, just going through the motions of eat-commute-work-commute-eat-sleep, that I dread. I'm looking forward to the weekend, when I might let myself go outside while it's light.
Maybe it's just that some part of me enjoys being grumpy.