Dear Diary,

Well I guess I am not going to pt job today. Last night I went to bed relatively early, about quarter after 11pm. I woke up about 8am, and that was good because the plumbers were here soon after that. I am still a bit peeved about it all because the super's daughter, who for some reason was handling this, told me she would call me and keep me posted about when they would actually be coming. But I had no idea. Luckily I was up already, but I was also in my pajamas and hadn't had time to take a shower. Also with them working here and taking up room in the hallway it seemed a bit impossible to go to the laundromat, so after being here for a couple hours, they put in a new toilet (rather than just fix the problem with the old one, they told the landlord I needed a new one- I couldn't help thinking how doctors always try to convince women to get caesareans because it cost more). Okay. So I have a new toilet. It is set back from the wall further than the old one so there are plenty of opportunities for stuff to fall off the tank.

I mopped the bathroom floor, went to the laundromat, and I guess I just have to accept that it takes all day. By the time I would get my shit together and get to pt job, it would be time to turn around and leave for exercise class. I am also aware that plenty of people actually set aside days for themselves to clean and do their laundry and just take care of their lives that way. It really wouldn't hurt me to do the same.

Last night I went to a dance class. Not my usual class that I went to 4-6 nights a week for years and years, but a samba class that I used to go to with a friend every once in a while. I like the teacher because she does a half hour of stretching before the class even starts. There is nothing that humbles someone who considers themselves "a dancer" more than feeling ultra stiff during the warm up. Because I danced so frequently for so many years, I consider myself a dancer even though I have spent most of the past 3 or 4 years sitting on my ass getting an office spread. It's so easy to think of your body as the same taut instrument it used to be, but truthfully if you don't use it, you'll lose it.

I was so inspired that I wanted to come home and do some yoga, but I was also starving, so I chose eating dinner instead. Sometimes, that's the way it goes. But I did do a half hour of yoga this morning, in between the plumbers diagnosing the problem and coming back with my new commode. Ideally I would like to do a little in the morning and a little at night, and get my flexibility back.

I just heard this in a movie: "Blessed are the flexible, for they won't easily get bent out of shape."

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