Three months ago, I bought a 10-class card at my local studio and asked them how long it was valid. I remember saying, out loud, “Well, if I can’t go to ten classes in three months, then I should be ashamed of myself.”
I have so many plans to be good. I mean, I plan to go to the gym three times a week and do yoga everyday and go to classes all the time and, and, and…
I plan to be thin and flexible, and happy, and loving, and patient. I plan to do more yoga in the future; I plan to do more massage in the future; I plan, plan, plan.
This is what I do. I walk the dog everyday and make her a special treat with dog food stuffed in a rubber kong bone capped with peanut butter and I put it in the freezer so it will take her longer to chew. I write a special note to her dog-walker every morning. I make the bed, spray it with lavenday,get ready for work and stop to watch Regis and Kelly. I hang fresh eucalyptus in the bathroom.
I go to work everyday. Sometimes I’m really good at my job. Sometimes I’m not as good as I can be. I go to the gym about three times a week, give or take. I miss days when I have to go grocery shopping or do laundry, or hang out with my family. Or just do nothing.
It’s not ideal. I’m not ideal. I’m really just doing the best that I can right now.