I’m hitting the semester-point where my mind keeps skiving off toward other* pastures while returning to ruminate about the stacks of work at hand. So here’s a similarly disconnected bit.

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I like to sit, reading, at the kitchen table, folded up like a glove-box map. It’s becoming steadily more clear that this is terrible for my body, however, as my hips, then knees, then calves and back proceed to tell me. I try to unfold myself every time I recognize the creasing, and I’m making headway in dismantling a multi-decade habit… slow going, that.

We have a wing-chair that I’ve also commandeered for working. I recently found a lap-table big enough for my new laptop and a stack of paper, which is important for my exegetical workflow: I print out the Hebrew (soon to be Greek-!) text and make notes all over it while looking back and forth to the various computer-based tools I use for translation. In December (October?), my trainer handed me a squishy ball to place in the small of my back to encourage my posture.

New question of the morning:
My feet touch the floor in the wing-chair, but not the kitchen chair. Is the fold my unthinkingly managing my feet?
And what does that body posture do with the increased cortisol I already feel—does it tell my whole-self I’m even more stressed than I might otherwise be?

Anyhow, I’ll sit in the wing-chair, not at the kitchen table, to finish my coffee.

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Note to self and sundry: 250 words to clear my throat. I may have small ideas, but I sure have a lot of detail packed into that space.

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*Yes, other pastures. I meant “other” and not “greener”: I have learned a few things over time, and one is that, when my eye/attention wanders, I’m seldom lighting on an inherently better choice. Merely a different one. I find it wise to keep that firmly in mind!