There’s nothing left to clean in my apartment, my crappy non-cable is only playing infomercials, and I've eaten every solid food in my kitchen. So tonight I had to find new ways to occupy myself until the sale starts at 2am. I thought about solo binge drinking, but realized that the only alcohol left in my stash is peach schnapps. And I may be an alcoholic, but I’m not fourteen years old. I have standards, dammit.
So I decided to take a purer route and do some yoga. At 12:30am.
It gets worse.
We’re having a bit of a heat wave in CapitalCity, and my apartment stores heat kind of like a green house. So, even at 12:30am, my apartment is a sauna. Therefore, I did my solo midnight yoga wearing only a ragged sports bra and what I lovingly refer to as my “1984 Summer Camp Counselor” short-shorts. They’re baby blue, make my ass look like a giant bubble, and are frighteningly short. Frankly, they’re obscene. I have only worn them out of the house once, on Halloween. I went as a 1984 summer camp counselor.
(That's me, TheNurse and TheHippie, on our way to a Halloween party circa 2005. Awesomeness knew no bounds)
So anyway, there I was: it’s 12:30am, I’m doing a downward dog and sweating like a prostitute, my ass is a giant baby-blue bubble, and the cat is wrestling with – and eventually is defeated by – the mesh bag that holds my yoga mat.
Friday night, ladies and gentlemen.
That peach schnapps is starting to look pretty fucking tempting.