There's always one. She -- it's always a she -- comes into class at the very last minute sets out an array of items: a bottle of water, a towel, a packet of tissues, various sweaters. She is clearly going to be trouble, preferring to achieve nirvana through accessorizing than through calm thoughts. And she was. Throughout today's 21/2 hour meditation class, she loudly swigged water, coughed, blew her nose, and generally fidgeted. Instead of achieving one-ness with the space around me, I found my fingers clenching against my thighs, my mind racing with murderous thoughts -- and what I'd blog about once I got home.
The cycle ride home didn't help my mood. This is what happens when you don't take a hat or waterproof trousers with you on every journey.
I got soaked. Which meant I couldn't face heading out again today to spend several hours with screaming rugrats -- sorry, Bill and Beth! I'll make up for it over the holidays; promise.
1 comment:
Not to worry — it was a loud, chaotic rugrat-o-ganza. There were shrieks of a pitch and volume that could instantly turn ovaries to stone.
And that was just the adults.
You did miss some fabulous carbs; you'll be forced to eat a slice of cranberry teacake tomorrow as penance.
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