I can't fall down for standing up

I am tired. And my legs, from my ankles to my hipbones, are dotted with black and blue blotches, some fading to brownish, some angry and new. I keep promising myself that today, this day, will be the day that I don't unpack boxes, move furniture, plant annuals in big-ass clay pots. And every day, I find that I just can't stop. I have been in the city nearly every morning for my practice with Mark - his assisted backbends are the best, at least in my limited experience. Not only do I like his sequence (three all-the-way-down-onto-the-hands-and-then-right-back-ups, three half-backs and one five-breath hold), but his instructions and suggestions have helped me make sense of what it is I am supposed to be doing - the breath being of paramount importance, no easy task, no suprise there, and then an opening up of the front body, also no easy task, but nowhere near as difficult as inhale, exhale back, rock onto the hands with straight arms and inhale stand up.

The drive in is not bad, although today the traffic from a "serious accident" (according to my new GPS) on the East River Drive delayed me so much that I ended up driving to Yoga Sutra instead. Greg is delightful as well, and I had one of my best Supta K's ever - my hands touched even before he put his hands on my elbows. He asked me if I wanted to bind on my own. I demurred. I don't do that, after all. Yet.

Anyway. Where was I? Soooo tired. After practicing, I usually run a few errands before making my way back to my house. Then I do some major unpacking, gardening, organizing, putting things together (like my wireless router - yay!), and suddenly, it's well past dinnertime, and time for bed, which I nevertheless put off for housekeeping, laundry.

I know I need to pace myself better. But I feel this compulsion to get all the twigs just right in my nest. Of course, that can never happen - there will always be another task. But I keep hoping that if I could just get "caught up", maybe I could get a small respite before the need to add more twigs becomes urgent again. Of course, that will never happen either.

Sigh.

Today, after practicing, teaching and then registering my kids for school, I came home with the intention of crawling into bed and watching the entire final season of the Sopranos on HBO on Demand. But did I? Course not. Adam's room was calling out to me, mocking me with its unfinished-ness, with its winter clothing begging to be put away, with toys desperate to be placed on the shelves my bruised-up body had dragged up two flights of stairs the day before.

And then it was eight-thirty and time to leave the nest - to drive a hundred miles or so to visit the little birds at camp. Which is what I am doing now - driving, or rather sitting in the passenger seat while the H is driving.

Two days of enforced doing nothing. Hopefully, my calloused hands will soften, and my bruises will have a chance to heal. Maybe I will stop biting my nails to the quick for a day ot two.

Funny thing - I am so so so happy. And I miss my house already even though I haven't even been gone one night yet.

YC