Screaming Feng Shui
I almost broke a blood vessel on my way to Rosie’s yesterday. I was having one of those days where everything was like finding that you’d left a tissue in your pocket then put it in the washing machine. I didn’t want to show up to her place all agitated, so I rolled-up my windows and from Ave of The Stars to Bundy St, screamed obscenities at the top of my lungs. By the time I parked outside her apartment I had exhausted the demons and was feeling good.
Her pregnancy is going well. She’s got all the regular symptoms—uncontrollable gas, endless appetite, haywire hormones, and low tolerance for idiots. We’ve actually never been more similar and it’s great! She’s been experimenting with different, natural ways of keeping balanced and relaxed, like feng shui.
There was a tiny cup of salt sitting in the middle of the table in between two candles. Supposedly salt absorbs negative energy and transforms it into positive energy.
“This isn’t supposed to be here,” she said as she ran her fingers through the tiny grains. “It’s supposed to be in the corner of the kitchen but Adam was cleaning the other day and thought that it was for serving, so he put it on the table. He uses it now. He knows we have an actual salt shaker, but I’m like whatever.”
The feng shui is working!