So this is what it feels like.To wake up at 7:30, know I could go back to sleep if I wanted but, after watching the Bed Intruder Song three times from my iPhone, decide it's time to get crackin' instead?
To grab my laptop and bring it to bed with me, prop up against two pillows and, well, get crackin'?
This is what it feels like: freedom.
This morning, I did a conference call from bed. I walked up the street to my new gym and took an 11 a.m. class in yogalates — a heinous blend of yoga and pilates, for the portmanteau-impaired. I came home and started working again. I ate leftover pizza on the sofa while Julia Child showed off her recipes for Baked Apples Alaska. Then my Internet went down, and I got irate. Then I came to Starbucks and set up shop here. Because they have Internet. And chai. And I have earbuds, and I'm wearing a ballcap.
At the end of today's yogalates session, we sat in prayer pose and rubbed our hands together, polishing our auras. (Yes.) And before the last namaste, we said the following mantra three times: I am happy, healthy and whole…right here, right now.
And I actually believed what I was saying. So this is what it feels like.