Leaving it all at Maryland Farms

So, you know - when I get mad,  I get industrious.  And I've had a few things get under my skin this week.

The whole Baltimore trip started it off with a bang.  I ended my work week trying to convince a manager of another department that I had no intention of giving up my product to her, because it didn't make business sense.

By the time I got home last night, I was so fried, I threw on pajamas and started vegetating.  I got dressed briefly just long enough to go out and get froyo.  I was eating my feelings - there's no better explanation.

This morning, I got up and went into the office for a few hours, got straight on e mail and contracts, and then headed to Maryland Farms.  My favorite Zumba instructor, Carrie, was teaching.

I could tell you about how cold it was this morning (painfully cold).  I could tell you about the annoying woman in leopard print who was being a complete douchechill and taking up space, but couldn't dance worth a damn.  Or about the two little old ladies who ended up flanking me and getting up in my grill.  But the good news is what I want to talk about here.

I danced like a woman possessed.  I left it all out there on the fucking floor in the dance studio.

I mean, I looked over at leopard lady and she couldn't even Beto Shuffle (single, single, double).  And as for the woman behind and to the left of me, why was she wearing purple latex gloves?

Anyway, Carrie asked for requests and I called out Soulja Boy, which is hard as fuck, but I nailed it and felt great afterwards.

I need to find a way to dance more.

I also need a nap.

Still a little stressed, but I'm making salmon loaf for dinner, then headed to do a little retail therapy over at Trader Joe's.  Tomorrow, I hit up the Y for another Zumba class (Sybil) and then Mafiaoza's for a little group therapy lunch with friends.

Life is good.