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After a weekend of burying the dead and the excitement of witnessing the beginnings of a new life being forged, today was a bit anti-climatic. It was freezing at the job, as per usual, and I began going throw the awful large folders in the box I was working on. I am on the last set for that box, and began prepping the new box for tomorrow to work with.

I came straight home and, instead of going to the gym or doing yoga, I laid my tired bones around reading a Harlequin, first on my couch, then on my bed. My tv hasn’t been on once, and  this is the first time I’ve been on the computer. I didn’t wash clothes, wash my hair, take a long bath, or any of the myriad other things I intended to do, but I feel like I did exactly what I should’ve. My wildly romantic notions of love have been restored. Reality had beaten them up a bit lately, so it was nice to reaffirm the fantasy for a few hours. Tomorrow it’s back to reading Carrie, back to the folders, the cold, the exercising, the TV and, yes, the tiredness and rush. Tonight, I am barely awake to write this. Only the goal set before me got me out of my warm bed and my post Harlequin langour to say anything at all. As you see, there isn’t much I have to say.

I did plan my publishing goal further, however. I plan to submit one story a month. I willl organize a list of publications to send pieces to and work from it throughout the year. I want to make a real concentrated effort on this. Also, I am going to make my doctor’s and dental appointments this week. And I will watch Stir of Echoes, both to satisfy my promise to watch it, and to send it back for something fresh from the Netflix queue.

Doing yoga in my apartment with Mr. Perfect yesterday was fun. It was fun Friday night as well. It made me remember all the things I liked about yoga and made me excited to continue on with it. Sometimes finding the breath is hard, and you don’t have any clue how to soften your ribs or elongate your spine at first, but when  you find the breath, soften, elongate, your body opens up, the various systems seem to switch on like a heater, your blood circulation ceases to be sluggish, and your mind slows down. Yoga is one of the only times my mind isn’t racing a thousand miles a minute. I don’t believe all the philosophic psycho babble they spout in yoga, but the way my body feels after all of that stretching and strengthening, the stillness it brings to my mind, cannot be discredited.

Going to the gym and doing yoga has finally allowed me to realize that no matter how hard it is to get to these things, my body thrives on the challenge of the workout, it feels good to finish a strenuous cardio program or yoga routine. It feels great to get to 45 reps on a weight-bearing exercise machine. And after yoga, my body isn’t stiff and sore, but languid and peaceful. My body is not lazy; I am punishing it by being lazy. My body wants to be fit and firm, wants to exert itself. I need to stop forcing myself to be lazy. That’s what I’ve learned about my body so far this year. Maybe the doctor can tell me something else.