I then sought refuge in my warm car where I enjoyed a velvety venti lattee. I listened to my new veil song, humming, sipping my coffee, and sketching out new choreography.
At ten 'til the hour, I headed over to Kelly's Office. I stopped in at the Deluxe Port O'Pot (venti coffee, remember?) and thus began the morning trauma. First, by now you would think I would know better than to actually look down into the Pot before using it. There are things you should never have to see with your naked eyeballs, and certainly not in the morning when you haven't finished your coffee. Anyway, while I was washing my hands, I heard a loud truck sound and the structure began to vibrate. Crikey, that truck must be really, really close! I opened the door and nearly banged the back of the service truck which had come to drain the Pot. Panicked, I inched out the door and squeezed past the truck. Seriously, I think they should knock when they see the door is closed.
Anyway, clutching my latte, my pupils a little more dilated than normal, I entered the Cage Zone and said hi to Angel. I probably should talk about Angel since he is pretty much always the first person I see there. Angel has a permanent coffee in his hand; he reminds me of all of my website icons because they all have a coffee in hand even if I have to photoshop it in. He is usually telling athletes to do stuff, just like ass-smacking Harry, except that Angel is super quiet, contained and always smiling in that yeah, hey, uh huh sort of way.
I have visions of someone lurching up to him and saying, "Hey Angel, blood is fountain-ing out of my nostrils, and I think this stuff dripping on my sweatshirt might be grey matter, and do you think this might actually be bone sticking out here?"; and Angel would keep that steady smile, sip his coffee and say quietly, "yeah, great, we'll take a look at it after you finish the pull-ups, deadlifts, and squat-things. Uh huh."
I might be completely wrong about this but just in case, I make sure to smile and say, "hey!"
Anyway, Kelly came out of his office: he looked totally surprised to see me. This was unnerving, more so for coming on the heels of nearly having been sucked into a septic tank. Turns out that he thought I had broken up with him; whereas I thought I'd been dumped: Scheduling mishap.
Um, awkward!
But he juggled me into his schedule and (as usual) there were lots of highlights to the visit (e.g. the Bacon grease moment, the discussion of the gory details of Keanu and my relationship, and Kelly's clawing at the door and shouting for Angel when the door latch broke, momentarily trapping us in the box.) But at the very end, after observing (and feeling rabidly envious of) some athletes hanging by their arms and pulling their legs to the bar, I blurted out that I wished I could do that. Kelly asked, "Why not?"
I don't think he knew the riveting power of those two words. I kept my face calm (PF) but I could feel my inner otter ricocheting around with excitement. I scrambled up onto a tall nugget and grabbed the overhead bars.
I slowly lowered myself and then dropped to my knees and then even sat deeper until I was pretty much mostly hanging by my arms. Success! My ribcage pulled open, and I could TOTALLY breathe. I wanted to hang there for an hour. Kelly had me change my hand position but I had lost focus trying to contain the ecstatic otter who wanted to step off the box and swing away. The new morning goal: hang like a monkey from any bar I can find.
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