I woke up a half an hour before the alarm went off this morning – but still only managed about 5 hours of sleep. I am starting to wonder if I just got old over night. My grandmother has only been sleeping 5-6 hours a night for as long as I can remember. I have always been an 8-10 hours of sleep kind of girl. Maybe I just crossed some magical age threshold and I only need 5-6 hours of sleep a night, like my grandma.
In any case, I started my day with some pretty easy meditation. I realized that I was “up” for the day, but not ready to start moving around and doing stuff. Drifting into that meditative place where thoughts just sort of waft across your brain without stalling, lingering, or shouting for attention was uncannily easy. Not at all like Monday’s morning meditation. This morning I wasn’t trying to meditate, I just did it. (I don’t know how to explain any better than that.) I’d like to think it is a breakthrough. Honestly though, I would not be at all shocked if tomorrow meditating were 100 times harder than Monday. Push and Pull. That’s me. I am going to try not to hang on to everything so tightly. Give that a go and see where it gets me.
I am managing to actually get up for 1 or 2 of my three scheduled breaks during the work day – not ideal, but 1-2 times more than I had been doing. I have also been doing a bit of the in my chair at my desk stretching that was suggested. Focusing on the open body language/power posing thing during those stretches – trying to counter act being curled around a computer keyboard all day a bit.
When I got dressed today I put on a pair of slacks and a nice light-weight summer blouse. When we were leaving the house and I realized that my pants had no pockets. Where am I supposed to put my phone? I am use it to listen to audio books during my excursions. Where does it go if my pants have no pockets? Why do I even own pants with no pockets … oh, right, they were a gift.
No, wait, why would they even make pants with no pockets? Something about women’s slacks and the sleek line, eliminating the bulk that pockets create at the hips … whatever. Anyone who knows me is well aware of my attitude towards clothes. Even if I were tall enough (5’2″ is not supermodel height!) or had the figure for it – I would never be a fashion plate. I am of the opinion that clothing should be functional and comfortable … clean and neat are important too … but I will take frumpy or slightly dorky looking but comfy and serviceable over fashionable every time.
I have to admit – I do own some incredibly impractical and uncomfortable to walk in high-heeled shoes. They rarely make it past the bedroom door – and then, only for very special
Pants ought to have pockets, even women’s “slacks”. (There is a tangent about purses that I could go on here, but I will save that for another time.)
I took our youngest son shopping for dressy clothes tonight. He is graduating from Junior High (middle school) tomorrow. He has grown nearly a full foot in height this year. When I asked him what he was planning to wear tomorrow for graduation he informed me that he really needs new dress-up clothes, because he has outgrown any he had. My thirteen year old boy asked me to take him clothes shopping. It might be the first sign of the apocalypse. *chuckle*
Actually – it was a relatively quick and painless outing and he came away with a nice outfit including dress shoes and a new watch (a good watch – our graduation gift to him). When we passed the boys section I pointed out a tiny pair of shorts and said, “I remember when I could buy you these.”
“Yeah, and they had tiny little pockets that were not good for holding anything.” I laughed. Apparently pockets are a thing in my household.
Come to think of it, I used to call my husband my MacGyver because he always had a dozen pockets stuffed with a hundred little bits and pieces of things that inevitably came in handy for fixing something or other.
My baby is graduating from Junior High tomorrow. I think I need a drink … and a paper bag to breathe into. Meditation tonight might actually result in some dangerous musings! Maybe I really did pass over some invisible age threshold with the sleep thing.