I forgot to tell y'all that I smudged the house this weekend. Not that I had a giant finger and smeared my whole house.
Remember the Colombian woman at work? Who told me my house needed to be cleansed? And she brought me some sage? She also said, "What do you think they're doing during Catholic services when they wave that thing around with the smoke?" You know it never occurred to me. They also wave that thing around during Episcopal services.
So I burned my sage. I had to walk around the house and swirl the bowl of burning sage in a clockwise direction--geez. I hope it was supposed to be clockwise. Now what if I did it wrong and this house is swarming with bad energy?
If the smoke died out, it meant that was a bad area and I had to relight the sage until that stopped happening. Guess the first place that happened? The wall where Francis is buried on the other side. Poor cranky demonic Fran. The smoke also died out over my bed. I had to relight that thing 109 times. Nice. My life is delightful.
I also swirled the sage around Edsel, just to cover all my bases. I mean, come on. Have you met Edsel?
In other news, yesterday at work we were gonna re-start our Insanity workouts, and one would kind of think cleansing one's energy and Insanity are sort of incongruous, but there you go. Anyway for some reason the person in charge canceled it, but The Poet who sits next to me said, "Why don't you come with me? They're having Pilates/yoga in the workout room." She had on her "I cannot resist the demonic beat of the polka" tshirt.
So what the heck. I said I'd do pillyoga or whatever. I got into my Rush tshirt (remember when Marvin dragged me to that dumb concert? And for some reason I spent $40 on a tshirt? Remember when I had two incomes and could blow $40 on tshirts? Speaking of which, guess who is mad at me because he has to eat Harris Teeter kitten food? Could it be Roger? Is he on a hunger strike? Is he gonna get mighty hungry, then? His mom is on a five-for-five-dollar Chef Boyardee Ravioli diet until payday so I don't even wanna HEAR it from his gray ass. OH! He is in a huff) and headed to yoga.
Longest sentence ever.
(Plus, Anderson is fine with it and can use the calories.) (From the kitten food, not from the sentence.)
So, I'm headed off to yolattes or whatever and my coworker Vilhelm Oyster is there after 5:00 toiling away. He has the strongest work ethic, Vilhelm. I am not even kidding. Every time I go over there, he is never fooling around on the Internet. And perhaps the part where I am amazed about that says more about my work ethic, but still.
"Namaste," I say to the toiling Vilhelm, bowing.
Vilhelm ignores me.
I wait.
"NAMASTE." I grouse at him. I won't be IGNORED before yolanda or whatever I'm about to do.
Vilhelm turned from his work. "You better check the quality of that namaste," he said, and went back to work.
I heart Vilhelm.
And by the way, my pilyodeloo teacher was the cutest human ever invented. Why are all yoga instructors hot? I had free yoga at my workplace in LA (of course) and the instructor had buttocks like halved melons. The entire time I was supposed to be getting centered and breathing and balancing and doing that dreadful triangle pose, all I could think was, "That butt is fricken amazing. Look at that melony thing."
Okay, I know all this talk about yoga and namaste and cleansing and hunger strikes has been deep, but I must go Wen my hair now. Oh! And I have to reschedule book club. I have two Halloween parties that night (the 29th) and I have a Halloween party Friday night, now, too, so that's out. How about Tuesday, November 1 at 8 p.m.? Can we do that? What say y'all?
NAMASTE, YOU BIG ARSES.
