He was mourning only in the sense that he was wasting the day and that he had to endure the lengthy and boring ordeal. If, in fact, someone mistakenly believed that Meursault's behavior was that of a mourner, he was mistaken Meursault, during those long hours, was not in mourning he was uncomfortable and embarrassed. During his mother's wake and funeral, Meursault looked the least like a mourner of all those who came to the long vigil around his mother's coffin. Marie comments that he looks "like a mourner at a funeral," a remark that is part of Camus' irony.
Marie has to shout at him to rouse him, and as they want to get to the beach early, they don't bother to prepare any breakfast, which is of little concern to Meursault: he has a headache, his first cigarette tastes bitter, and he feels limp and drained. Other than Meursault's mother's funeral, which was described somewhat journalistically, nothing much has happened in the novel until now thus, Meursault's opening comment in this chapter, describing what an effort it was to get up this morning, is ironically comical, reminding one of the old saying, "It was one of those mornings when I should have stayed in bed." Certainly this is true in Meursault's case. This Sunday, however, is the climax of the novel's action, leading us to Meursault's philosophical insight and conversion and, then, to his decapitation.
Sundays, for Meursault, are usually stagnant days - no routine, no fun, no impromptu outings.
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