Bali Belly

I’m up to page 230 in my Yoga Bitch: One Woman’s Quest to Conquer Skeptism, Cynicism and Cigarettes on the Path to Enlightenment, which I only purchased because the author is from Seattle. I wouldn’t let myself write on my new learning disabilities essay for Danielle and Marion, until I had gotten to the part where Suzanne finally drinks her own pee- amaroli. It’s in attempts to combat the “Bali Belly”, aka drinking a third-world-country’s-water-syndrome . I knew it was coming. I just had to bear with the narrator long enough to read about her organizing her roommate’s shampoo bottles in a bathroom by a Gamelan procession long enough, till she got a black tounge and got the nerve to do it.

Ms. Tangelini walked in my room for the third time asking me to think hard again for the laptop code, and this time we both got it. I had planned on calling Ms. Woodruff up with the number she left me, so that I could search through her hundreds of garden plants, but I wound up getting the Mac computer code instead. So much for lemon balm. I’ll have to buy chamomile tea at the Fresh Market instead, which is just as good.


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