My yoga classes have become a huge joke. I’ve tried going to a few different places; I like to change things up as a general rule anyway, but there are problems with all of them. My mother used to always say that I could “find the problem with perfection”. She also called me Negative Nancy. Not the worst mother I could have had, but certainly not the most supportive. The whole reason I started practicing yoga was to relax and learn to lead a healthier lifestyle. But these people—oh my God, these people—they just don’t seem to get how this whole things works. First of all, people are always coming in late. I’m friends with the instructor, and I’ve suggested to him that we lock the doors with a sign that tells people that if they’re not in before class starts then they’re just out of luck. Unfortunately, he can’t afford to lose the business, but he wishes he could do something like that. The most frustrating thing is that when they come in late, they make a big thing about it. They want to announce their arrival in some way, sometimes literally. They make a big ruckus, which is particularly noticeable because we’re all trying to be calm and quiet by then. If ever I were late—which I never would be—but if I were, I would be as quiet as a mouse. Or I would just skip it that day, if only to keep from bothering others. My husband says that I shouldn’t be surprised the culprits don’t feel the same way about the situation. People who are prone to being late are also prone to either not being aware of, or not caring about, other people’s needs. There’s a correlation between the two behaviors that is so very much likely unavoidable. And he’s right, as always. I just wish he weren’t so loud about it all the time. I love him so much, but I didn’t realize what I was getting into marrying a guy who is so much smarter than me. But I suppose that’s exactly why I love him, isn’t it? My yoga partner, on the other hand, is more my speed. As bad as her emotional and psychological problems are, she makes the classes easier to handle, just by being around. Too bad she has family game night, or we would be able to exchange disappointed looks about the man whose phone is ringing...again. It happens literally every time. We think he just wants us to believe he’s so damn important.