Brooding

Yesterday started out awkwardly; Saturdays always appear so full of promise, of opportunity, and I so often assume that time will stretch out before me so that I will be able to accomplish all of the tasks and visits that I set for myself. I got off on the wrong track right off the bat yesterday, succumbing to an urge to begin some early spring cleaning and never making it out to the Y, or to a yoga class, but becoming distracted by vacuuming and cleaning out the coat closet.

I did make it to lunch with a couple of friends, both breast cancer survivors, one very recently done with treatment and still getting her energy and hair back. That was nice, and I had all kinds of ideas of what i wanted to do afterward, so many ideas that they pushed out the memory that I had actually committed to a massage. I went to purchase some groceries, and went home and was preparing to walk the dog when the client called me. I snapped back to reality and ran off to the appointment. My client was very understanding; he blamed my brain-fart on the medication I'm taking. I blame it on brooding, and my frustration with the numerous things I want to add back to my schedule, while time won't let me.

Dave says "when you feel overwhelmed by commitments and responsibilities, shorten the list". I did yesterday and got over my angst, had a lovely meal at the home of our trusty friends Grace and Billy, and got a good night's sleep. Took it easier today although I did include a 40 minute exercise session on the strider at the Y, then a nice bake in the sauna before showering (I kept the body covered so that no one in the dressing room had to deal with viewing my nipple-less tits; I won't be so scrupulous in the future-it's good for them to have to deal with it and too hard for me to keep 'em covered) and another brief shopping excursion afterward. But the weekend flies by, and it's over now. Time to hit the sack. Drat.