Thursday, November 12, 2009
Now that I am a mortgagee, I have some grown up decisions like: "Do I need life insurance"? Given that I have no descendants (I always use protection so I have never been pregnant), the only reason to get it would be to pay my mortgage in the event I became too disabled to work. There is almost surely an exemption for mental illness, so I really can't see the point. I mean, even if I end up like the "Diving Bell and the Butterfly" dude and all I can physically do is wink, I am sure I can still write papers and give lectures, with the assistance of a spunky male nurse at my side who will patiently interpret my winks.
Pilates involves putting you body in all sorts of strange positions. (Little wonder that it has transformed my sex life.) One such position yesterday resulted in sand tipping out of my pants and onto the "reformer" (a Pilates machine). The instructors laughed at me, then told me that this has never happened at their studio before - ever. Which begs the question - what sort of strange world do we live in where people don't do the absent-minded things that I do? Could it be that the set of brain cells which tell me never to divide by zero tell others to always empty their pockets of sand after going to the beach and before they do a Pilates class? The world is a crazy place.