…from another dance class. This time contemporary jazz. I love how freeing this form of dance is, compared to the usually rigid confines of classical ballet. But I’ve only been out of class for 3 hours and I’m sore. Really sore. Like, back is cramping up and I’m shuffling about the house as-if-I-were-85 sore.
Joe’s already passed out, else I would have him squeeze an entire bottle of Icy-Hot all over my tired little body. He’d complain about helping me rub it all in, and I can’t say I blame him. ‘Cause then, we’d both be kept awake by that awful smell, rather than my groans from those shooting pains every time I roll over.