My car is in for a service today. Back in the day, that used to be something I dreaded. Mainly because I had an awesome little 2001 Ford Fiesta called Ziggy that I had to take to the most awful Ford service centre in Cape Town.
It was a dirty and sloppy place and because I was but a poor student, the folks there never took me very seriously. I always had to find my own way back to my flat or campus when I'd dropped the car off, because they didn't do drop-offs. Thankfully it wasn't far to walk. Although Murphy's Law being upheld, it would usually rain on those days ;-)
The nasty people at the garage also used to take advantage of my ignorance and do all sorts of things to my car while they had it, at great expense. My poor dad would get a shock when I phoned through to request money to pay for all the extras. I have whined about this before at around the same time last year (far more eloquently, I would add. I'm seriously losing my touch).
Thankfully these days it's a different story. My darling Ella (my little Honda Jazz) enjoys only the best from the fabulous folk at the Sandton Honda dealership, who phone and ask for permission before they incur extra costs. And they also don't mind giving you a lift to the office when you drop your car off, or picking you up to fetch it.
But today, seeing my man is on study leave, I didn't have to use that particular service. TSC and I drove to Honda in two cars at about 6.45am (they open at 7). I dropped Ella off and got into his car and we headed to gym and then had a quick coffee over breakfast before he dropped me off at the office at 8.30.
It's actually been a lovely start to the day.
This surprises me seeing I am NOT a morning person. In fact, that's the understatement of the century. Mornings to me are like garlic to vampires; like red flags to bulls; like Eskom rate hikes to South Africans, like... you get the point. I don't do mornings.
I used to. In fact, when I did my gap year and shared a room with five other girls, I would get up an hour earlier than everyone else. Why? To make sure that I was awake enough to seem human by the time everyone else appeared (also, it was the only way to get some alone time in that house).
I also used to get up early to go to gym with my dad when I was in high school. Why? Because you're more likely to get me to gym when I'm half asleep and can barely remember my own name than when I'm awake enough to argue with you.
That said, TSC and I are now finally getting into a nice space where we have a happy balance between letting ourselves rest when we need to and pushing ourselves to get moving. I love this balance. It is new to me.
Before, I would either compulsively over-exercise or not exercise at all. Now, I'm enjoying being able to exercise outside (either walking around the neighbourhood with TSC enjoying the last of the afternoon sunshine or working on my garden, which is fun and a hardcore workout) as well as doing various hilarious gym dvds in front of my TV (I'm not sure whether I get more of a workout from the exercises or from laughing hysterically at some of the instructors) or hitting the gym for a 30min blast on the cardio circuit.
I also feel the freedom to not exercise when I'm feeling exhausted and have learnt not to beat myself up about it. And, contrary to what a (lunatic) biokineticist told me a few years ago, I don't have to exercise seven days a week.
This is good. Now if I could only learn to apply this theory of balance to the rest of my life!