I blew it last night. I had intended to do yoga after putting Hannah to bed, but she was restless and squalled until well past 11, so I was trotting back and forth to settle her down. By 11:30, it just wasn't happening.
I am surprised at how disappointed in myself I am. Silly, but true. I think part of it is that by the time I admitted defeat, the house was a disaster, and I had been doing a decent job of maintaining order up until yesterday. (Not a great job, but a better one.) I was tired and cranky and felt like a schmo for not running up and down the stairs fifteen times as a last resort, just to get it done, even if it would have resulted in my being unable to sleep for three hours.
It's okay though. It's another day. And now I have to decide if, say, hitting the gym on my lunch break AND doing yoga or the effing basement stairs or something would make up for yesterday's bust.