Mozzarella & the Sunday Scaries

There’s something about making homemade mozzarella on a Sunday that feels like a small rebellion against the Sunday scaries.

While the week tries to creep in, the to‑dos, the expectations, the mental load... you’re standing over warm milk, stretching cheese like it’s a reminder to slow down. To soften. To choose presence over pressure.

And then there’s the sauce.

There was something almost therapeutic about squeezing whole tomatoes by hand. One small squeeze and juice goes flying — messy, unpredictable, impossible to control. And somehow, that felt honest. Like a reminder that not everything about Sunday needs to be neat or structured. Sometimes the mess is the point. Sometimes the release is what resets you.

The Sunday scaries thrive on urgency. Homemade mozzarella thrives on patience.

And somewhere between the stirring, the stretching, and the tomato juice splattering across the counter, you realize the week ahead doesn’t get to define you. You get to set the tone. You get to choose what you carry into Monday, and what you leave behind in the kitchen sink.

Sometimes the antidote to the Sunday scaries is as simple as creating something warm, imperfect, and entirely your own.