I’m rushed this morning. It is difficult to prioritize sleep and still get in all the activities that are “supposed to” fill the morning. The whole idea of my morning routine is to begin the morning slowly, and easily. It depends entirely on having the discipline to get to sleep when most people are putting on a movie, or drinking a glass of wine at the intermission of a play. Back when plays were long enough to have intermissions.
It’s raining. I can hear it through the window. I can hear the soft gusts of patter. And the metallic trickle from the roof gutter to the drain in the driveway. Leonard will drag his feet on the walk. Not the role model I need this morning.
Coffee. Yoga. Walk. Work. Then packing for a week on Gran Canaria. Nothing fancy. Plane, train, and automobile. A budget trip to load up on sunshine before the darkness settles over most of the day, all of the days. And the only time I will be able to see natural light will be when I can slip out of the building at lunch.
Part of me wishes that the autumn break was a month away. We’ve had a long, warm and bright fall and the need hasn’t built up in me as it usually does. In fact, the last week I have been gearing up. Looking forward to the next project. My own, and at work. I’ve been settling back into my skin. Picking up old habits. The good ones.
I always have anxiety about traveling. It has gotten worse over the years for some reason. There is, of course, the unknown: floods, crime, political upheaval (I was nearly arrested in Kyrgistan at the tail end of the pink revolution). But now it is just the treat of a wedge in the routine.
Just as I was getting started.