Unexpected Error

Finally – a weekend without an endless to-do list. Daylight savings time makes it easier to get up early, and on Saturday, I’ll just get up when I get up.  It’s easy fitting in a run or a yoga class around brunch or a movie. I’m looking forward to relaxing for a change. Yeah, right.

The first sign of things not going as expected was the “spinning beach ball of death” icon on my Mac. I’d been having some issues.  Hmm, why no Firefox? Oh, I’ll download it. After it fails to start 5 times and quaintly “quits unexpectedly” I start to get a little agitated.  After a couple hours, I have almost no programs, and my blogging hour is long gone. So is my planned run. I barely make it to brunch. Ten hours later and I’m wide awake, so I try to have a go at the blog. I click open Word and I get an “unexpected error” – I’ll say.  I attempt to read the help documents and fix it myself. When that gets me exactly nowhere, I call the help line, which is remarkably fast in the wee Sunday morning hours. Nearly two hours later, my help experience ends with a gray screen and apologies from the other end of the toll-free number. Diagnosis: bad software install or dead hard drive, and I decide to be first in line at the Genius Bar at the Apple Store on Sunday morning.

I figure three hours is plenty of time to get live computer help, get coffee, and get to noon yoga. I set out, and my throat’s got that tickle. I better not get sick. I don’t have time for that. I'll cure myself with a steam after yoga and then I’ll pick up something for dinner. Easy. After about 90 minutes, the genius solves the problem – the hard drive is irreparably damaged. He advised me to take it to Tekserve, for cheaper service.  There, the technician confers, and I'll have a new hard drive by Tuesday. He congratulated me for backing up, and gave me a cough drop. I barely noticed that I barely had a voice. At this point, I’m clearly not feeling well.  I also realize yoga started 20 minutes ago. ugh.

OK, I’ll just walk to the gym, do the arc trainer, and steam. I haven’t worked out since Thursday when the Yankees parade blocked me in my office at lunch time. I missed my Saturday run. I missed yoga today. I have to do something! I better pick up the pace. But I’m sluggish. I keep walking past the gym, and all the way home.  It’s official. I’m sick. But I have to do something! Does this count as “fitting in fitness” – yes, it sure does. 

See, I’m kind of a stickler about my fitness routine. I have to laugh when others find me flexible, as it’s not really my natural state – on the mat or off. But I do what I can. I’m not good at picking up the signals (that I’m tired, that I’m sick, that there aren’t enough hours in the day to do what I’ve planned), and when my plans don’t go as, well, planned, I get really irritated. I tend to run my life a little close to the bone – a few too many appointments, a few too many to-dos on my list, and always a few things I never get to. Rarely do I fail to cross “work out” off my list. But I’m trying to be more… flexible.

My friends think I love to work out. True, I don’t hate it, but given the choice, I wouldn’t mind sitting around eating bon-bons. I’m just a pragmatist. I like to eat good food, I like to go out and have a few drinks here and there, and I like my clothes to fit well. Working out is a trade off. I really do think that yoga and pilates make me more calm, more, present, and more strong in every way, and I like that feeling. But also, I know how good I feel after a run. It’s one of the few times I’m alone, where I can let my mind wander. I get ideas.  I relieve a little stress. 

But every now and then I can’t get the class or the run in, and I’m mad.  But today, after an exceptionally annoying 12 hours nearly consumed with my laptop woes, I slowly continue that stroll home. I’m trying to roll with it, to be flexible, to take what Sunday’s handed me. With nothing on my agenda today except a few tasks I created, I didn’t miss out on anything, and the accountable person for that to do list is just me. I can give myself an extension on, well, everything.  I don’t need the gym or the steam, and I think we’ll order in some take-out.