waiting for 9:15.

 So, I've been trying to get into shape lately. You know, the whole "New Year, New Me" thing that usually lasts until about February 5th. But this time, I'm committed! I've joined a yoga class. And let me tell you, it's... an experience.

The instructor, a woman named Brenda who probably meditates in her sleep, is all about "finding your inner peace" and "flowing like a gentle river." Meanwhile, I'm in the back, sweating like I'm in a sauna wearing a wool sweater, and my inner peace is currently screaming for a pizza and a nap.

The other day, we were doing this pose. I don't even know what it was called, but it involved contorting yourself into a position that would make a pretzel jealous. Brenda, of course, was effortlessly holding it, looking like a graceful swan. And then there's me. I'm in this pose, and my leg is sticking up in the air, and my entire lower body is basically a… well, let’s just say it resembles a pair of very confused balloons.

And as I’m struggling, trying not to fall over and take out the person next to me, I look at the clock on the wall. It's a giant, artistic clock, where the numbers are sort of faded, and the hands are… well, they’re not exactly hands. They’re more like… silhouettes of a very flexible person.

So, I'm in this pretzel pose, my leg is in the air, and the "minute hand" is at the 15-minute mark. And then I see this little cartoon character in the corner, pointing at his watch, with a thought bubble that says, "Waiting for 9:15."

And I thought, "Oh, Brenda, you brilliant, twisted genius!" She's not just teaching us yoga, she's teaching us *patience*. She's literally *making* us wait for 9:15 by having us hold this ridiculous pose until the clock, or rather, the yoga-fied clock, strikes that time.

I swear, I almost started laughing. Here I am, my body screaming in protest, my dignity in shreds, and all I can think is, "Is this what enlightenment feels like? Because it feels a lot like mild torture."

So now, whenever I'm waiting for something, or stuck in a long meeting, or even just waiting for my toast to pop, I just imagine myself in that pose, leg in the air, waiting for 9:15. It doesn't make it any faster, but hey, at least I can pretend I'm being mindful. And maybe, just maybe, I'm getting closer to finding my inner peace. Or at least, my inner yoga instructor who finds amusement in my suffering. Thank you, Brenda! You're a real… clock-blocker!