I am sad. My Sunday morning routine has been messed with. Normally on a Sunday, I wake up, turn on NPR, eat breakfast and generally putz around, then it's off to yoga. Sunday is a bona fide Anusara class. Not that my other weekly class isn't enjoyable, it's just not the same.
But this Sunday, I sit here, basking in the wonderful sun, knowing that it's not off to yoga I go. Yesterday's marathon mall walking really did me in and my foot is about three sizes too big. It woke me up constantly through the night. Heck, last nite I even broke down and took one of the "crazy pills" to keep the pounding at bay.
So, elevated, iced, and wrapped, it's up on a chair. No yoga for me.
I'm trying to see this as a chance to balance my checkbook, work on my latest story, finish the trashy novel I'm reading, or whatever. But I'm still kind of sad.
I wonder if, being on my feet for so many hours this week at the tradeshow means I can take some workers' comp time.... Hey, we're in the insurance biz, right?