is this a joke?

happy humps to you this fine wednesday morning. we hope the mid-week finds you well; early days passed by solid and smooth, the lure of the weekend just moments away. bras and ranties can be found in our usual state of grace, worshiping proper by the glow of the laptop, rotations round the clock continuing to tally on the project that just. won’t. fucking. die.

our attempts to move the needle even just slightly toward equilibrium found us popping our meditation cherry on monday night. after kicking our ass (slash abs) @corestudioto‘s pilates, we stuck around to take part in a (free) guided meditation. and while telling our inner dialogue to shut the fuck up often renders difficult, we found our first attempt at the process of stillness both calming and rejuvenating. thus, we plan to continue, if not only for the sake of our poor, withering chi.

in fact we were so far gone into the proverbial zone that we were later left blistered and whimpering after trying to whip up a quickie for dinner. turns out one must hold a hot pan with the begloved hand, rather than use said hand to gesticulate a panicked pain while holding the pan with the unbegloved hand. you get it. we know. let’s not even talk about it.

thus we spent the night awake in throbbing agony (only an intervention marathon deemed appropriate operatic company) with that unbegloved hand wrapped round a jar of frozen spaghetti sauce. since we are apparently just ghetto enough to have ice-less ice cube trays.

life, per usual, a comedic disaster. et tu?
(image pinched from we heart it)