I should be asleep by now. Fridays are the worst kind of busy for me --the kind where I get up and teach exercise classes from 8am until 11:30. I call it "Fun Friday" but it's only that way when I go to bed at a decent hour and I haven't drank too much the night before. A "Fun Thursday" could totally ruin my Friday, along with all of those early morning cardio queens that are looking to make a good calorie deficit before overindulging over the weekend.
For the record, I've already written over 750 words today. Damn that 750words.com that S got me hooked on using!! As you write, it gathers metrics about your typing speed, your word choice, and then spits out all sorts of data. My fastest 750 words (which means typing basically every shallow thought that comes to mind) was 12 minutes. I know because the website told me. I became an addict in January of beating my statistics and it's ultimately been the demise of this blog. My internal excuse is always -- Screw the blog; I've already written 750 words today. I'm trying to break myself of that.
It's been a hell of a week, and I mean that in both good and bad ways.
I have begun yet another job. A thoughtful grad school cohort offered me a yoga class on campus. Thursday afternoons I make the drive down to the college for an hour of gentle yoga. Today was the first of what I hope are many Thursdays to come, maybe even more classes on this campus. It's a great facility, the best a private college could offer. It's a sweet deal too-- the school pays more than twice what my other workout facility pays per class. Regardless, I'm not there to make money. No one teaches exercise/yoga classes for the money. I'm happy if I break even. I'm even happy when I don't.
Mom visited the new house again this week. She has been very eager to help me get things organized. I can't refuse her as she's got more energy and more organizational skills than a whole girl scout troop. This week was for tackling my "office." I've been blessed with some extra room in this house that I could actually call my own. I'm channeling my inner Eudora Welty here. Actually, as much as I'd like to pretend like I'm a genuine writer, I will also equally pretend to be the practicing meditator and yogini as well. Let's just say that it is a room meant for many purposes, but right now it's only proven to house my wireless printer in a sweet little closet space. The rest of the office (up until today) was a complete disaster "catch all" area. Mom and I spent the entire afternoon sorting through boxes of paperwork: investments, taxes, yoga sequences, Body Pump choreography, graduate papers and syllabi. I bought 2 large packages of hanging folders. She brought half a dozen plastic crates for filing. By the end of the day, we had sorted through the mess and packed most everything into my very functional office closet (the one that houses the wireless printer).
Beyond the work, the home, there is of course, the latest dramatic shift in my ex-husband's life that I have to deal with. The kids let on that he was dating someone new (which was why he asked me to have them on his designated evening). Her name is Susan. She has grown kids that are in college. She works for an office supply company. She had given them some radically cool mechanical pencils. I started putting all of these little details together and realized my ex is dating the lady we bought our house from. I called to confirm this discovery. Yes. Drama.
I don't know if it's on purpose or not. I don't know how exactly they met. I just know that we are suing her for not disclosing damage to the house, and I let him know that he should kindly lean in on their date and inform her that there will be legal fees she needs to pay (along with fixing our floor that she so creatively covered with a rug she just so happened to leave behind for us). I'd love for them to be in a relationship long enough that our paths cross as they did with the last one. I'll have a chat with her.
There are other things too, this week. Stories for another time. I've said too much already.
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