Yoga in the kitchen

This morning I finally took ten minutes for a few poses before my son burst through the door  into the kitchen. (Our new bathroom is too small to do yoga, you know.)

Some part of me was hoping that we would move and everything would just magically fall into place. But, well, life is not really like that. The day after we moved in we realized standing in between boxes that we had talked at length about what furniture we want to buy, however, we hadn’t actually done it. We were so focused on just finishing renovations that things, which needed to happen after we had moved, were just minor details. And now? We urgently need a dresser. The internet connection is on historic dial-up levels, which drives my husband up the wall. We haven’t heard a peep from the company that is supposed to be in possession of our desk since last week. It just doesn’t seem to end.

At least after two weeks in our new place the major touch ups are done. And once again, I am waiting, somewhat patiently.

I still don’t have a bedroom available which I could claim for my yoga corner. But I do have a beautiful new kitchen, which I love. So some days I stand here and breath.

Yoga in the kitchen is highly under-rated…

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