That is exactly the way I feel about yoga: I think about it all the time. I think about it while walking down the road. When I correct my posture while sitting at the computer. I fantasize about breaking into a dancer when I am in the park. And when I am finally practicing I think about how I could/would teach this sequence.
In the morning after getting up I sneak off into the bathroom (My son usually follows me within minutes). But sometimes I just stand still and breath. Sometimes I even manage a couple of breathing exercises before he bursts into the room, announcing that he is now done sleeping, woken up and looking for me. Then I practice my other yoga: smiling from the heart.
I steal these little precious moments. Being in a crowded appartment where we will continue to live with my Dad until December. Overall things have worked out well. I am grateful to my Dad, that we can camp out until our place is ready. But there are quite a few days when the space gets superbusy with the four of us and visitors coming and going.
The more I need my space to breath amidst the chaos. Yoga in the bathroom is highly under-rated…