My Friday late-afternoon yoga lesson marks the pivot point between my work week and the weekend. Sometimes not completely—there are times when work slops over into “free” hours, and occasionally my instructor or I have had to reschedule to Saturday instead. But in general, the focus on yoga, followed by Friday night homemade pizza is my transition ritual.
A couple of weeks ago, since we are both two weeks past our second
vaccination, my instructor came to my house and we did it in person, which is
da absolute bomb. Bridge-up-the-wall is hard to explain over Zoom, but in
person it’s pretty much a snap, and it’s one of those poses that you can picture
getting you through a product governance meeting when all else fails.
Also, we had quite a post-lesson chat, and I can’t tell you how
wonderful that feels to be doing across a room instead of across several router
hops.
That evening, my power went out; it went out through the hood, so
it wasn’t anything I did. I was sitting at table, watching an old Poirot
episode, eating my pizza bianca insalata, when the lights and TV cut. But my
pizza was already cooked, and I had my tableful of candles lighting my dinner,
so I just continued on in the silence and peace of the start-of-weekend.
Power came back later, long enough to recharge my mobile, which
was at 21%, and then it went back off for another hour or so. By the time it
came back, I was ready for bed—reset half a dozen clocks and tumbled in.
So here’s my gratitude today: the blessing of yoga, personal
instruction, the demarcation between work and not-work, and the reminder that I
can get along fine with pizza, candles and my own thoughts.
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