I'm here at the motel. I'm hoping that a) there are no bedbugs and b) the mattress is not some purgatorial wrack upon which I shall thrash for the next 8 hours before the cries of the children lodging in neighboring rooms heralds the breaking of day.
I'm hurting already which does not bode well. Six hours in the car today after a bad night last night is not the best combo. Still, I just took "the cocktail" so that should help.
All in all, a good day today. I sold some paintings and some prints and the day itself was beautiful. And there were crepes for dinner which always makes the day better - these were especially good, buckwheat crepes with dark chocolate and peanut butter.
I'm in rather desperate need of a massage. My left shoulder is riding a bit high and curling forward which affects the neck, which affects my head. "This shin bones connected to the...." well, you get the idea.
I was supposed to have been doing a daily mindfulness practice which was prescribed by my doctor. I was supposed to have started it...oh.... two weeks ago. Today, when Guadelupe called to confirm my appointment with the good doctor on Tuesday morning, I told her I would call back to reschedule, justifying this because I haven't had time to get the MRI she ordered.
Really, I embarrassed that I hadn't done the mindfulness.
How sad is that? I feel guilty because I haven't done my mindfulness practice.
I can hear it in my head. I open the door to go out and from the next room my mother's voice calls, "Lor, did you practice your mindfulness today? You promised to do half an hour."
So, ideally, I should be mindful of the fact that I feel guilty for not being mindful. That's the idea of it anyway. And it's supposed to make me stress less and make all these other things that I have difficulty with less difficult.
Monday. I will start practicing on Monday. Half an hour a day. I promise.
In the meantime, I will try not to be mindful of the lumpy mattress and ineffective air-conditioning.
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