After two days of housework and DIY, I started the weekend with a vague dissatisfaction. But then I remembered the solution. Do some yoga for the first time in a long time.
The warm up stretches of tight muscles were hell yet brilliant. After that, the just lying there pose was a joy, and I free-associated back to the time, about 1993, when I had my final shiatsu from P before she left the country. Those were the days! You lie on a futon in your Ys, and take a slow-motion pummelling from a serious masseuse kneeling beside you. Anyway, at the end of the last session, she picked up my feet and held my soles against her belly while we both breathed deep and slow. Whether there was some kind of chi transfer, or foot nerve endings a-tingle with essence of pervert, who cares? It was bloody wonderful.
After about ten minutes of warriors and sun salutes, the weekend suddenly looks and feels much more hopeful. Lunch in the sun, then read one of the library books by a jock lass, A L Kennedy.