Maybe it’s not the best idea to do hot yoga when it’s ridiculously, brain-numbingly hot outside. Last night I went to my normal Monday evening class at Baptiste, determined to bull through the heat and ignore the fact that I was dripping sweat before the class even began. After 60 minutes, when I’d almost passed out after every major inversion and felt so enervated that I could barely lift my arms, I rolled up my mat and admitted defeat. I felt like a wuss. Then I noticed how many other people were rolling up their mats or taking extended breaks in the foyer outside the studio just to get some air. Sweat may be cleansing and all, but not right now.
The heat and accompanying humidity are putting everyone in a bad mood. Even with air conditioning, it’s difficult to sleep. Poor Scully just lies on the floor and cries. After yoga last night, I went to Lunchboy’s house and realized that I just wanted to sit on the couch and drink cool beverages. No talking. No interaction. Just sitting and hydrating. Cranky Moxie.