For me, it was the interminable pause in life between 2.30pm and 6.30pm when
You weren't allowed any food because you'd had lunch,
The prospect of a single ham sandwich, only margarine, no pickle, no mustard, no salad, only the cheapest white sliced, when you eventually were permitted to eat.
Fuck all on TV.
Wasn't allowed to iron the school uniform because it would obstruct her view of the crap on TV.
Not allowed a bath yet as it was too early and somebody might want to go to the toilet.
Nothing on the radio to listen to.
Homework already done in school on the Friday at lunchtime - anything set after that point was done on Monday.
I'd been literally locked in the house since arriving home from school on Friday afternoon and had to spend even longer trapped at the end of the sofa within slapping and kicking distance or sat on the filthy floor with the animals (my preferred location).
I wasn't allowed in my room because it wasn't the evening yet/it was freezing up there anyhow.
It was too dark to read as the windows and nets were so filthy, hardly any light came through and only a 40w bulb in a lamp the other other side of the room was permitted after 5pm.
After about 6.30pm, I always began feeling better, though, as then I'd had a bath (and thereby avoided Songs of Praise/Highway/etc), felt clean for a change, was allowed to go upstairs, the charts were coming to the important bit, I could iron my school uniform, pack my bag and generally avoid downstairs as much as possible in the knowledge that I'd actually be outside in daylight the following morning.
These days, it's annoying because DP thinks Sunday Dinner should be at about 8pm and he's not a fan of eating before then at all, there's still fuck all on TV and everything is still fucking shut for Covid.
Except there is one positive for the morning. As I'm off this week, I'm going to be at the door of the salon at 9.59am when they are opening. At last.