Last night around 2 am, a loud bang and scurrying feet awaken me. Of course, my husband dons his robe, but makes it to the landing and back to the bed. So, after a while, I (who can not combat with burglars very well) make it downstairs to find Camille filling up her water bottle and pointing to a whole log of pork loin on the kitchen floor. The Pyrex that used to house the pork is also on the floor, as are the carrots and celery that accompanied it. This is how I find myself on all fours scrubbing the floor in the middle of the night. Charlie is in hiding.
This morning, instead of making the 8:30 yoga, I decide to sloth it out. This doesn't quite work out, as I turn on my PC and find email communications throughout the night which result in working on and off through the day. But, at 4 o'clock, I walk down the hill to the pool and do my routine 25 minutes + 20 minutes of shower & sauna, and feel much better. Swimming in the rain is very calming IF you can make it to the pool.
As most people savor the long weekend, it's interesting how it makes little difference to me. The volatility of emotion no longer has correlation to the day of the week.
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