Am I allowed to call in sick with a case of existential angst? How about morose misanthropia? Spiritual bankruptcy? Fatal boneheadedness? Would any of those work? Because I have far too much to do today and no mental energy with which to do it all: grading, reading, writing, fixing my hair, watching episodes of Lost on iTunes, looking at pictures of puppies on the internet, going back into the bathroom over and over again to see if the entire room really does still smell of that new facial soap I bought.
I am a busy girl. And my bathroom smells of "wild lettuce." I don’t just mean that there is a subtle aroma in there, brought on by the soap’s delicate presence. Rather, the soap, hidden away and be-curtained in the shower, has transmitted its healthy, organic essence to all points in the bathroom. What the hell, people? One bar of soap should not have such a totalizing effect on the air in a room. Granted, it is a shoebox-sized bathroom into which I have a hard time fitting even just my nose, but, still. Lettuce. My face does have a healthy, low-calorie, high-fiber glow about it though, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice. Now I need some gorgonzola crumbles and balsamic vinaigrette. (Do you think that would clog the pores?)
And now a non sequitur about the dangers of exercise (see how I am looking out for you?):
I feel I must inform you about the kind of yoga involving that big, goofy, fun-looking, inflatable "balance ball": as the name implies, balance is a necessary component. I do not have any balance. None whatsoever. I am surprised I survived my gymnastics classes as a kid, frankly. This activity seemed deceptively safe. It’s basically just a huge beach ball–a beach ball that relaxes and invigorates! What could go wrong? Well, as it turns out, draping one’s spine precariously across the ball and then wobbling back and forth for several minutes does neither relax nor invigorate the body. Rather, it hurts the body. It makes the body want to lie flat on the floor for half an hour until the body has regained its composure and dried its tears. It then makes the body want to take a nap.
Sadly, folks, there is no time for napping today. I have to go sniff the bathroom again, and then I have a date with some internet puppies.
If metaphysical diseases were an acceptable reason, most of the French philosophical establishment would go into medical retirement. Some of them have been bedridden, afflicted with the angst, since the mid-1940s, after that quack Sartre started plagiarizing what he had learned from Heidegger in Germany. Fuckin’ phoneys!
Also, a propos of nothing, Vague, do you have any advice re the dangers of exercise in the weights room? Like, how to stay clear of skinny, insecure undergrads desperately struggling to lift their own weight in cast iron?
Does that fancy soap really do what you say it does to your complexion? I’m intrigued…
You date puppies on the Internet!!
And I don’t blame her. Those internet puppies are all gagging for it.
wel u know how hte inarnet is. they say their pupies but infact tehir al baldign midalaged camels. some of whoam are cops.