Day of rest
I woke up this morning after getting a full eight hours of sleep. Refreshed and whatever, I elected to go to yoga. We had a new, little instructor whose contortions could only be achieved by short, asian women. I did what I could and measured my success by the number of times I heard my back crack.
When I came home I decided today was as good as any to try a detox/colon cleanse. My trainer recommended one months ago and several co-workers have endorsed the effects. Perhaps I was a little high off my heightened state of alertness and increased flexibility. I mixed the concoction up. Mmmm yummy.
Yoga and a detox. What could I do to complete this California cliche? I decided to go vote before my colon woke up. What a treat this was. The folks at the Culver City Hall were great as I touchscreened my way to completion. I listened to several, nervous elderly voters wanting reassurance.
“Now this vote is going to count, right. You are going to turn it in,” one man asked with Andy Rooney size eyebrows, a cane, and braidable earhair.
I chuckled to myself. I feel like a kid that got the front car of the rollarcoaster ride. Voting was easy and it’s over. Who cares if it counts? We can always run back around for a do over.
My 12-year voting haitus is off and I didn’t puke.