I Will Never Wash My Hands Again

Well, I may have won the battle, but it seems I lost the war. The magical, non-stop faucet, is now back to faithfully performing it's automatic shutoff duties.

And really, I can't blame anyone for this because it is out of our collective controls. Sure, the maintenance man probably fixed it after someone turned in the faulty faucet for being "broken." But really, like all things that happen to me in the bathroom, this was clearly divine intervention. God felt it was necessary to bring this magical faucet into my life and now, for whatever reason, has felt the need to take it away. Maybe washing my hands was no longer the tedious yet life affirming task it was meant to be. Maybe this was His way of teaching me that I can't take the good things in life for granted. Or He could be punishing me for snickering last week when that guy in the stall next to me let a loud one fly (but God, he laughed too! I was laughing with him, not at him!).

Whatever the reason, I know there is a lesson to be learned. And it makes me feel at ease to know that God is next to me when I'm shitting and is guiding me when I'm washing my hands. And I am aware of the honor this comes with, but also the burden. Every courtesy flush suddenly carries so much weight, as it is no longer solely benefiting my stall neighbor, but also our Lord and Savior.

God Bless. Amen. L'Chaim and all that.

Bikram Yoga is Sweaty

The invite was innocent enough: Do you want to come to hot yoga with me today for the 4pm class? Sure, let's check out this "yoga" thing all the hippies are raving about. Little did I know that a mere hour later sweat would be seeping from every pore on my body.

Let me be clear just in case you are skeptical the next time you hear about Hot Yoga (I'm refuse to call it "Bikram Yoga." That seems deceptive. It's hot, so that's what I'm going to call it). This class was the sweatiest 90 minutes of my life. My shorts, the only thing I was wearing, were drenched. When I was done, my towel that I'd been standing and lying on felt like it had been dunked in a pool. I had a view of myself in the mirror the whole time, and though I have to say that I looked damn good doing the various stretches, I could also see the sweat pouring off my body.

I should have known how serious this would be when my friend told me the room would be 105 degrees. That's just not natural for people to flock to. That's the type of heat you run from while thanking Mr. Carrier for inventing the air conditioner. Still, here I was paying good money to workout in the heat for 90 minutes?!

Then when I told the instructor this was my first time, her only suggestion to me was, "Just focus on getting used to the heat. Don't try to do anything else." How could that not frighten me a little? But at that point it was too late.

And yet, I might go back. I definitely felt relaxed afterwards (if not a bit woosy and very drained). It certainly was a workout like none I've ever had; my heart rate went up, my breathing got a little heavy and yet at no point did I feel like I was exerting myself. Plus, I made it out alive. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? And in this case, it also makes you more flexible.

A Moment With Krispy Kreme

Fellow Voters, I need a moment alone with Krispy Kreme, if you wouldn't mind. Feel free to avert your eyes, step out of the room, whatever you need to do. Krispy Kreme and I need to have a conversation just the two of us.

Krispy Kreme, I love you. You know I do. Which is why I've decided to be honest with you. I cheated yesterday. Right in your own back yard. And I loved every second of it.

Baby, don't get that look on your face. We've talked about this. A few times. And yes, it's that new store in town you were all worried about, The Fractured Prune. When you asked, I said I didn't care about her donuts (she calls them "donuts" by the way, not "doughnuts." I know how you hate that). I said I prefer your hot glaze over her hand-dipped. "All those toppings and crazy 'specialties' are just for show. No one can match your basic hot glazed, baby!"

But from the moment I walked in to her store, I knew this was going to be special. All the glazes ready for dipping. All the toppings in a row. And when they yelled, "first timer!" and handed me an O.C. Sand (honey glaze, cinnamon sugar), I felt so special. Like they wanted me there.

I ordered the Reese Cup (peanut butter glaze, mini chocolate chips) and my friend ordered the Peppermint Patty® (mint glaze, mini chocolate chips). And let me tell you, they were wondrous. The Fractured Prune, she makes the donuts fresh and tops them after you order. So the donut is still hot and the frosting is still oozing when it arrives at your table. But really, it's the donut that is so special. It is baked (in the store) to be crispy on the outside but soft, warm and a bit cake-like inside. And so moist.

Krispy Kreme, I think we can work this out. We've been together far too long to just give up on us now. But you've gotta be real with me. No more fake doughnuts and pretend hot glazing. And until you can promise me that, I think it's best that we see other people, at least when we're in Dupont Circle.