Banishing the Sunday Scaries

In a civilized manner, with photos and sugar.

What happens when it’s not just a day, but a whole month of feeling anticipatory dread about the world outside? I mean, Earth’s a tough place right now. Immigrants getting rounded up by ICE, extreme storms and temperatures and an economy that feels like it’s teetering on the brink of collapse makes it hard to feel secure. A year ago Dylan introduced me to the idea of Sunday Scaries, the feelings of anxiety, unease, and even physical pain due to the fact that another work week starts in a number of hours. While Sunday—or any other day for that matter—doesn’t herald the beginning of a work-week for me, I have found too many days living in NYC easier to handle by staying inside the apartment, not getting dressed and shuffling from room to room. I want to chalk my hermitage up to some sort of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I hate grey skies and marvel how I survived living in Portland for as long as I did. I double hate the cold, and we’ve gotten TWICE the amount of rain normal for March/April/May…which for me triggers a primordial hunkering down. This sucks, because one of the reasons that we stubbornly refuse to move is because we love NYC.

This morning I took myself out, and made a concentrated effort to get out of my neighborhood* and remember what it is that I love about the city. I started by taking the subway to Houston and stopped in at Jack’s Wife Freda for a delicious plate of eggs, roasted tomatoes, and Haloumi cheese.

I decided to walk to a viral Cinnamon Roll bakery which set my route for the morning. My path took me through parts of Greenwich Village and into the East Village.

On the way I passed by Minetta Theatre, where Hugh Jackman is currently preforming in a very off-Broadway production.

After the show you can grab a bite at Minetta Tavern, a storied institution where Dylan Thomas, Ernest Hemingway and Ezra Pound would take a writing break. It was also a speakeasy during Prohibition.

Halfway there, I came across the art studio where Jean-Michel Basquiat used to work.

The building still has some of the punk, edgy, derelict feel that must have made it affordable for Basquiat back in the day.

I’m a huge sucker for street art and thought this was a gorgeous mural.

Finally I got to my destination, Sunday Morning, a bakery that serves nothing but cinnamon rolls. Like everything viral in the city, there was a long line, but I filled my time making a playlist and before long, it was time to pick.

Cinnamon rolls, nestled in bag, I wandered across a brilliant little bookstore cafe which I’m determined to explore on a future walk, a church with it’s doors open for Sunday service,

and another great mural.

I was glad I wasn’t in line for lunch at Katz. Ugh. I know, I’m okay waiting for something viral, but balk at the touristy.

Finally, I made it home, with my rolls intact, and dug into their sweet gooey goodness.

So, other than the obvious lesson that sweets always make something less scary, I think getting out and seeing my city put me in a good headspace for the week. The world on-line is much scarier than IRL, and just being jolted out of my usual pattern helped me find novelty and a bit of joy.

*NYC neighborhoods are self-contained to the point where you almost never need to venture outside of them. In most neighborhoods you’ll have your grocery stores, bodegas, restaurants, laundromats, community spaces and subway stops. It’s easy to get everything you need and never cross the city.