A long commute.
Working on the journey.
Five meetings, in four different buildings.
Dragging a bag on my back.
Thoughts of the never ending to-do list.
Calls in between.
Keeping up with the emails and the voicemails.
A dash for the train. Which is of course, late.
A long commute, all over again.
Tired. Legs aching.
This is my every day.
So there is only one thing to do.
I could go home and clean the bathroom or hoover the bedrooms or tackle the ironing pile or empty the dishwasher or start cooking the dinner.
The fluff on the floor can just stay there. No one will die from a crinkly shirt crisis. The Queen is not coming for tea. The dishwasher can stay full.
I choose to stretch my tired body. Rest my racing brain through slow, calming repetitive strokes through the water. I choose exercise and health. Movement.
I choose me.