Down time and the SWHPO epidemic

This weekend could have easily come straight out of my wildest dreams about four months ago. What kind of weekend is that, you ask? One for which an agenda did not exist. Where I had not one work-related obligation, chore or personal item to concern me. No groceries that needed to be bought. No articles that needed to be written or emails to be sent. No one expecting my phone call or visit. Nuh. Thing. 

Always one to thrive on feelings of "productivity," whether they are real or make-believe, sometimes it is hard for me to put down the to-do list and walk away. But sometimes life naturally slows down and it is important to respect that when it happens and enjoy it because it usually means it is about to shift into top speed again really soon.



So, I decided to fill up the weekend with the "nothing day" chill-out routine: coffee shop, reading, yoga/run, cooking, music listening. Not necessarily in that order.  Oh, and I threw in "drinking a bottle of wine" for good measure. 

It rained incessantly all Saturday, quashing any hope of going for a run. Still, I got up early and went out in the downpour, on the slim chance there were a few stalwart yogis gathering on their mats underneath the pavilion in Congress Park. But no, yoga in the park was washed out.

So I lumbered over to Uncommon Grounds and sat underneath the awning with hot, fresh coffee and a bagel and watched the rain. And the people going by in the rain. I read my book and scrolled through the best songs on "The Suburbs" album for the 10th time this week.  

The rest of the morning and afternoon floated by in a state of dreary boredom. I went home to take on the excruciating task of listening to the rain pelt the trees outside my windows as I caught up on the latest news sophomoric antics of our public officials, local and otherwise. (By the way, I really don't want to know whether anyone took a picture with their pants down, where and when they did it and who they sent it to. But unfortunately, it seems like there's another high-profile dude every day who thinks he can get away with it without making headlines. Guys, you're wasting everyone's time when you gamble that SWHPO (sexting while holding public office) will remain harmless and private -- as it likely would IF you were an average person. But -- you're not! Good thing is, all this spectacle has prompted one super sage self-help guide. I hope the next guy (or gal) reads it before whipping out their camera phone in the heat of the moment.) 

Phew. Where were we. Saturday? OK. Speaking of heat, 4 p.m. came around and I drove back out in the rain to yoga class attempt #2. This one was more appropriately scheduled indoors, in the 105-degree studio to be exact.

It happened to be taught by an instructor I'd never had before. His style led me to spend much of the class wobbling on one leg wondering if he'd a.) recently left a career as a military drill instructor or b.) happened to be an auctioneer in his spare time. Or both. It was like Bikram boot camp for 90 minutes, and I had flashbacks of my ballet classes as a teenager -- when I both thrived like an addict on the high of pushing my body toward its physical limits and feared the merciless disciplinarian who helped take me there.  

I barely survived. I literally wrung sweat out of my clothing after this hot yoga class as if I'd just dunked myself in a pool. I recovered at home with a shower and yummy fruit pancakes, drinking wine and slumping around the house in pajamas.

Sunday was much the same. A surprise call from Meg got me out of the house just in time for me to not go stir crazy, and together we indulged in a heady dose of Girl Talk with a side of fish and chips at The Local ... Apologies to everyone sitting near us. I swear, we thought we were speaking in whispers.

That's a wrap. Back to running tomorrow!