Yoga

I did some beginner yoga yesterday morning, and it became quite clear quite quickly that I am not that good at yoga.

I was doing okay with the downward dog--stand up--sun something--downward dog--stand up business, but then things got a bit more advanced.

Then they got a little too advanced.

What I'd like to know, Yogi, is why you felt that this

was an appropriate pose for beginners yoga. No one on the World Wide Web is even doing that pose which is why I had to sketch in the most impossible leg position ever.

I determined part of the way through my session that watching someone do yoga is as exhausting as actually doing the yoga, so I laid on the floor in relaxation pose for the rest of the time.

What's good is that my day started out with some type of physical activity. What's not good is that my day ended with half a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough in my belly. At 10pm.

 

Dear Sir or Ma'am

Dear Sir or Ma'am, but most likely Sir, with the obnoxiously loud motorcycle who passes my house at 5:50 every morning:

Shut up. My alarm doesn't go off until 6:02.

With little to no love,

Katie (and I'm assuming Alan)

------

Dear Ma'am with the fuchsia wrap dress going up to the 8th floor:

I can see your black lace thong and matching bra right through your dress. So can the middle-aged creeper that's also in this elevator.

With love,

Concerned citizen getting off at the 5th floor

-----

Dear Sir who looks like Ryan Gossling that I just saw in Post Office Square,

Hi.

Since I'm so awkward, that's all.

With my eternal and undying love for your resemblance to my boyfriend-who-doesn't-know-that-he's-my-boyfriend-yet,

Katie

Today.

What my Friday morning should have been like:

 What my Friday morning was actually like:

First of all, I woke up out of sorts because I slept on the couch so I could cuddle with my cat because he is sick. Again. For the bazillionth time. He wouldn't even snuggle with me until it was already ten minutes after I should have been getting ready for work, so that was a bust.

Then I thought I could wear my hair curly today. That was also a bust....It's always a bust.

When girls complain about their hair, they're all like

 



and I'm like

 



Then I looked in the mirror and realized that I'm actually 13 because, for the fourth day in a row, it looks like I have a mild case of the chicken pox. (Ah, the paradox of using sunscreen on my face. On one hand, my skin will stay beautiful because I won't be wrinkly at 29 from the sun. On the other hand, my skin will be stuck in the 8th grade because I have sensitive skin. Life is really tough.)

Then it was time to give Walter some medicine.

All morning.

 

 

Fifteen minutes and one terrified/miserable cat later, I was ready to leave for work. So I put on my coat (not my favorite coat though because I left that one in Italy....grumblegrumblegrumble) and walked with Alan (what a cutie for walking with me on his day off!) to the train.

 

On the way I got too hot, and the sun was in my eyes because I forgot my sunglasses, and the walk to the train is uphill so I was breathing heavy, and my hair was half wet and half dry and the dry, frizzy parts of my hair kept stroking my face just so I could feel ALLLLLLL the glory of my frizz, and...

 

I had so many First World problems this morning.

 

When I got to the train station, I realized that I didn't bring my book or my Week magazine, so I took one of the Metro newspapers. Big mistake. The first article I opened was about a six year old who is on her 11th surgery after the Boston Bombings. Man I'm an asshole.

 

So I decided that I should be in a little bit better mood, because what's really wrong with having frizzy hair and pimples over the age of 18???

 

 

 

Then the kid in front of me started screaming and crying and he kicked me in the shins mid-tantrum, so then I decided that I hated the world again.

 

And now I feel much better, thank you.

 



 

Peanut Butter Jelly Time

Today is a PB&J kinda day. I don't know what makes a day any more PB&J than another, but this day really just felt like it.

Quite right*.


So I went to Panera Bread and got a PB&J off of the children's menu because no where else seems to have PB&J on their normal adult, working woman lunch menu.

Exactly. I was so excited when my buzzer went off, and then I got to the counter.

I wanted to cry a little.

Worst picture ever, but 1) as an adult, I just ordered a PB&J off of the children's menu in a place swarming with people in business suits, 2) my PB&J came with a GoGurt... which I promptly returned because I'm not, in fact, a child, but thanks, and 3) I didn't want people to think I was taking a sweet Instagram picture of my PB&J because I thought it looked awesome.

I know you can't see what's circled, but allow me to tell you what it is. It's the total cost of the sandwich. The amount in the circle would be $4.48.

Excuse me? I should be able to Instagram my PB&J for that price.

So then I opened the sandwich and wanted to cry again. Please have a look:

 

.

 

Lame. So anyway, I still had a hankerin' for a PB&J when I was finished because the first one fed maybe a three year old... so I got another

Oh alright, like you've never gotten two PB&Js before in your life

 



Good news- the second one really did the trick. Thank Jesus.

*I was in London Heathrow for about an hour and a half yesterday and so now I think I'm British.