Inertia

I'm having a moment. There's so much work to do, so many Big Issues and Decisions to be addressed, and nothing that can be accomplished at 4 pm on a Friday. And so, I'm at a stand-still. Maybe it would be better just to leave now and face everything Monday?

Also, it's a perfect fall day, which makes it a crime to be inside. Must purchase chimenea or other outdoor burning device immediately.

The first day that feels like fall

New addition to the drums overhead: deep bongo and tinkling xylophone. Apparently, these are beginning xylophone students, so there's a lot of disconnected plink-plink-plinking. Slightly less annoying than the bass drum you mistake for your heart beating out of control.

No matter. Today is the first day since last Friday that I feel moderately well, and it's officially The First Day That Might Feel Like Fall. As my friend noted last week, the smell of fall hasn't yet arrived, but I'm sure it soon to follow.

Which means it's time for me to shell out some money for a nice chiminea or other type of outdoor fireplace. Let the burning begin! One of my friends is so fond of bonfires that he burns anything when he runs out of firewood--cardboard, old furniture, his children's building blocks. Don't be outraged--the kids are too old for building blocks and they have a whole pre-school's worth of them.

It stormed last night, and it's like the showers scrubbed the air clean the light today is autumnal--warm and dry and high definition.

Can you tell I like fall?

Action items

I'm sitting here eating a pear, watching my inbox fill with new emails. Here comes another. And another.

I guess that, since my official title is "project manager," I need to make peace with the term "action items." I never heard that used outside of Fight Club until I came here. I can't say it myself without feeling my mouth contort, same as I could never say "y'all" until I'd left the South for a time and then returned with the knowledge that indeed I am a Southerner.

Call me Somnambula

Well, I'm pretty sure I sleep-walked last night. This is the first time I've done it since I was a kid. I remember being in bed and people were talking distinctly outside the window. Something about rebuilding after the hurricane (clue 1: we thankfully had no lasting hurricane damage). I got up to find out what was going on with the loud talking, and had the distinct impression it was daylight.

Except, I don't really remember getting up and the next thing I knew, I was in my dark hallway, in my house that's silent as a tomb except for the neighbor's dog barking. It was just after midnight. It took me a minute to figure out why the talking had disappeared and I leaned against the doorframe trying to figure it all out.

Of course, the most unbelievable part was that I didn't scrape my shin on the bench at the end of my bed, as I do almost every night when I get up, at least half-awake, to go to the bathroom.

The rest of your life

Today is the first day and all that. As ridiculous as that cliche is, I like invoking it to myself in a cheesy attempt at self-motivation. I'm returning to yoga class after about five months off. I have still been practicing some on my own, especially in the last few weeks as I prepare for a new fall session.

Still, my inversions are pretty dismal. The worst part is, once I get back into rigorous practice I'll face weeks, if not months, of painful soreness in my back and shoulders as I rebuild strength from head and shoulder stands. That particular pain gives me headaches and sometimes stomachaches. Great things to look forward to.

Strange as this sounds, one of the things I look forward to least is the unnaturally warm welcome back I'll receive from one of my classmates, who always greets me as if I'm returning from the dead if I've missed so much as one class. She is a genuinely sweet, caring person who throws her arms around you and asks "how ARE you" and really concentrates on your every word. So what's my problem? Maybe my soul feels like a shrivelled raisin when exposed to her radiant sunshine.

Not that I don't feel like a force of nature myself sometimes. It may just be a difference of style a touch of reservation vs. a bushel of hugs. Anyway, she's sweet and her intention is good. I know I will be glad after class that I've returned to it.