I used to dread Sundays.
"Why have I done this to myself?" I'd ask. "Why am I stuck in this job? What kind of idiot am I? What am I doing with my life? Aaaaaaaaaagh."
My cats would look at me, sit down on my lap, and purr.
"Okay, I guess things are going to be okay," I'd say to myself.
"Yes," my cats says. "Yes, just relax."
"Are you talking to me?" I'd say.
"Yep, we talk now," they'd say.
"Am I losing my mind?" I'd say.
"Possibly, but just sit back and relax," they'd say.
"Sounds good to me," I'd say.