This is my favorite time of the entire week. I've worked out my schedule so I cram all the craziness into Monday through Wednesday, and by the end of the week things are slowing down. Friday mornings I make phone calls that start at 7:15 and usually go until about 10. Back in November I started making those phone calls from home and then going into the office afterwards. One day I decided just to stay at home, and get work done there. Lo and behold, I got more done at home than I had in the office. I always thought I'd struggle with working from home - that between the pantry full of snacks and the beckoning lure of getting some extra laundry done I'd get too distracted. Turns out I like my work more than I like folding laundry, whatdoyaknow. I get way more done at home. When you share an office with 3 other staff and a team of about 20 undergrads who frequently stop by - it's amazing what a respite an 8 hour shift with no interaction other than my Pandora asking me if I'm still there can be.
I wake up at 6 and slip into the den with a cup of chai, and start by answering emails. It's always a nice touch to send my boss an email with a 6:08 am timestamp - just to sort of say hey, not only am I working, but I'm working early. No slacking here... even though I am in my jammies. Once the emails are done, I write. It's either a weight loss-related blog or updating a powerpoint with the latest and greatest nutrition/coaching findings, but I've found that 6 am to 7 am is when my creative juices are amped up so I try to take advantage. Or, maybe it's the caffeine and sugar, but whatevs. It works. (Today: hunting down a journal article about yoga turning on genes that combat oxidative stress. Is Om the new blueberries?!?! Yea, this is what makes me go "woohoo!") Once I've committed the updates to e-paper, it's phone call time. The next three hours I do anywhere from 4-6 coaching sessions, and they fly by. With my feet propped up on the windowsill, I watch the sun rise over the tops of my neighbor's roof while furiously scribbling notes and asking prying questions about emotional eating, portion control and "are you still using your measuring cups?" Time slips by stealthily when I'm coaching. By the time I hang up on my last phone call, it's hard to believe I've been working for nearly four hours and it's time for a break.
Last week I decided to implement a yoga workout into my day. A combination of wanting to bolster my antioxidant capacities (aka reduce stress), release the computer-posture knots in my back and neck, and get back at the wii Fit for telling me "balance just wasn't my thing" sparked this new trend. I've only done it once, but I figure if I write it on my blog that has to hold me accountable right? Despite having no qualms about exercise in general, yoga is something I have just never been able to commit to on a regular basis. I enjoy it. I see the benefits when I do it more than, say, three times in a row. I don't even really mind how much I really suck at it. But for some reason, I seem to be as committed to doing it regularly as I am to quitting caffeine. (See: second bag of chai steeping.) But, I'm going to try. Again. So hear me now, internets, I'm adding in yoga on Fridays. Check me.
After my yoga break (which previously was a Facebook, g-chat and/or random youtube googling break -pro.freaking.ductive), it's on to the mindless stuff that for some reason I can tolerate much better at home than I can in the office. Maybe it's because I don't have a window in the office, and the penitential feel of florescent lighting and eggshell painting just contribute to the tedium of data entry and scheduling. Someone has to do it, and until I hire a VA, that someone is me. A couple hours of plugging in this week's weight loss into my oh so cumbersome web tracker and figuring out what times the hospital will do a DXA scan on my participants, and I'm totally spent but it's done. The same tasks used to get spread out into three or four hour-long slots I had during the week, crammed in between meetings and teaching classes. I never felt like I had a handle on it. Getting it done in one fell swoop is the band-aid rip of my work week. It's usually about three o'clock by this time, and when you start at 6 am, boy oh boy that's quitting time. If my hub is home at this time, he'll ply me away from my cocoon in the den with the lure of a cold beer in a pink coozie and an episode of Entourage. The weekend officially starts with that short walk from den to living room. If that's not a perfect work day, I'm not sure what is.