Magic Circle of Hell

Pilates last night.

And I think the so-called “Magic Circle” you use in Pilates was created in a special little corner of Hell. It was crafted in the same little corner where some demon’s spawn conceived of another little torture device called an “ab wheel.”

I hate this magic circle thing.  Not a very popular sentiment as I found out when I mentioned that there was “nothing magical about the magic circle” in class.  From the look I got from the instructor, I can tell that I’ll be paying for that little quip for a few more classes.

Boy flew back into town today and has literally hit the ground running.  He moves into the dorms next Thursday, but everything he needs must be found and purchased tonight in order for it to collect the right amount of dust sitting out in my garage until we pack up the car to head to his college dorm – twenty minutes away.  God forbid he do a little thing I like to call “wait until you see what everyone else has brought before you go crazy buying things you won’t need.”  This is part of the reason I’m such a stress puppy these days.  Everyone in my life needs what they need immediately if not sooner.  And, dammit, I’m always the one who makes herself crazy trying to get it for them.

I totally want to go move to a little island in the middle of the ocean with no phones, no computers, no one who needs me, and some big guy who’ll take care of me and do my bidding.

It would help if he were good at spear fishing and building huts from palm tree fronds.  I’m telling you those guys who are over-educated and well-bred are seriously over-rated.

But until the day comes when I can run away from home and spend my days keeping the beach hut clean and hanging out in the hammock while I’m waiting for He-Man to come home from a long day on the golf course he created on a level patch of seagrass, I guess I’ll just have to hang here…

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