In order to make it to yoga on time, I have to be out of the office at 6pm. So this evening, when I looked at the clock and it was 6:10, I scrambled to leave. That never feels good, since it means things go unfinished and I have to rely on my brain to remind me to do them in the morning.
I rushed out, realizing I had to stop for cleaning supplies since I had used most of them up and Hazel was coming the next day. Also, she would need money--cash money, which I haven't had in days.
So, as I do when I am stressed, I called Rob. I think I do this so he can help me feel better, but I would bet--cash money--that he thinks I do it so that I can stress him out, too. "I will never make it to yoga," I vented. "And I have to run errands, and I have no time. And I just ran out of work leaving a bunch of things for tomorrow and my day is already busy tomorrow." And so on.
The irony of freaking out about not getting to yoga on time is not lost on me, but that's how much I knew I needed the 90-minute session. So when Rob offered to pick up the supplies, I was grateful. Unfortunately, I couldn't accept as I was unable to articulate what we needed.
He told me to go to yoga and not to worry about the other stuff. We would go get it together after I got home. Which was exactly the right thing to say and I calmed down, got my ass in gear, and went to yoga. And when Paolo asked us to think of our intentions for the class that night, I silently declared that mine would be to chill the fuck out.
Jack is TWO!
2 years ago