Bianca and her sidekick were in my building today. They helped with a luncheon held at the super exclusive restaurant at the top of my building. Not only is it super expensive, you have to be a member of the social club of the same name to get a table at all. So they are doing this, and the implication of this is that I am having lunch with them. Sounds fantastic, doesn't it.
Ready for the funny part? I am claustrophobic. Albeit I say only slightly. And I am good about managing that, in most situations I have it under control. In circuit training w/ 100+ people I am on the ends of whatever we are doing and my stuff is by the door. Yoga- closest to the door. Movies? I sit on the aisle. and just going up 3 or 7 floors I am fine. But 21... and my chest closed and I couldn't breath. Like a full blown anxiety attack. By the time the doors open, it looked like the elevator was spitting me out. I had to collect myself behind a plant before I visited the Maitre D.
The entire meal I was dreading getting back into the elevator. How funny that as far as we have come, every once in a while we are smacked with our own limitations. My chest still hurts.
ugh.
So the pic is a box turtle. I like him. I think it is rockin that he is neon orange. I have seen one in the grass at my mom's. We were knee deep in dirt, doing something with the flower beds. She saw me looking at him and said "If you even think of bringing that thing into my house, I'm going to give it your room- and you get to sleep outside". Because moms don't so much appreciate every animal that can stand you being brought home. Who knew?
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