This morning, I planned out when I wanted to go to yoga for the rest of the week. It included a class immediately after work today. I was buzzing with energy all morning, ready and anxious to get my vinyasa on.
Then this afternoon, I got a little bit of a stomach ache. Not a terrible one, but a little one. I often have stomach issues, so this wasn't particularly abnormal. But this, combined with a sudden desire to go home and watch all The Biggest Loser, put away all my clean laundry, and lay in bed and cuddle all the kitties (or just the one), led me to just NOT want to go. And then I started to fight with myself.
And I've been active the last three days. And I have three more days to get two more classes in. But I said I was going to go. So I should go, right? There was no reason not to go. I have the time. If I don't go that makes me lazy, right? Or maybe it fucking doesn't.
So I decided not to go. And I'm trying not to beat myself up about it. There's no need to, and it serves no purposes. Yoga is love, not hate.
I am maintaining my crazy so well.