I just happened upon an amazing early-morning exercise routine. It’s absolutely all-natural, includes breathing method(s), and results can be seen even just once-a-week activity. Follow instructions to the letter:
A. In half-awake drowsy state while still in bed, listen to morning sounds (i.e., birdsong, squirrel chatter, distant trash trucks).
B. Roll over to get comfy. Take lovely deep breath. Set intention to relax back into slumber.
C. Sit bolt upright because “someone” forgot to take trash bins out to curb last night with holiday approaching.
D. Gasp loudly. Pause to consider ramifications if bins were not curbside today.
E. Panic. Fling back covers, grab sweater, shove feet into garden shoes, run out back door. Forget gloves.
F. Shudder at cold blast of air on teeth. Check bodice for complete coverage. Run to bins.
G. Stop and stare. Sigh loudly. Forget which trash truck comes first. Swear.
H. Spring to action. Lunge for smallest bin. Roll onto patio. Run over own foot so bin falls down. Yank to standing. Clean up trash mess. Run bin out to street. Place at curb.
I. Check for trash trucks. See nothing. Hear truck noises “somewhere”. Run back to remaining bins while swearing under breath.
J. Choose big, heavy yard waste bin filled with oak leaves. Wrestle onto patio. Groan loudly. Try to brush spider webs from arms. Get all heeby-geebie-ish. Pick up stick to remove said webs from handle. Check for spider….twice. Run bin out to curb.
K. Marvel at one’s adrenalin. Search street for trucks. Take deep breath of relief. Run back.
L. Grab recycling bin. Drag over patio to back door. Rush into house. Grab newspapers. Rush out of house. Dump in bin. Rush back into house. Grab more recycling. Rush out. Dump in bin. Rush in; rush out. Dump. Rush in; rush out. Dump. (Repeat as necessary.)
M. Feel endorphin response kick in. Feel empowered, blissful. Race effortlessly with recycling bin to curb. See no sign of trucks. Throw arms up in air. Run around front yard in triumph. Sing “Barney’s Clean Up Song” because nothing else comes to mind and moment deserves music.
N. Go back into house. Search for even more trash. Strike gold in son’s room. Run with armful to street. Dump in bin.
O. Wave to neighbor taking one, tidy trash bag to her bin as you pick up dropped trash bits. Be grateful pjs resemble sweats. Drop trash bits in bin.
P. Saunter into house as you brush last spider web from arm. Put kettle on. Hear first trash truck lurch by, sigh deeply, pat self on back.
Q. Make coffee, read paper you rescued from gutter, enjoy day.
© 2012 Beverly Belling, Rarely Balanced, All Rights Reserved
All photographs & drawings are original and © Beverly Belling, Rarely Balanced, unless otherwise noted.