My box? Well, I know I've discussed on here time and again how I'm not much of a fan of moisture, particularly of those mystery moistures that show up in my daily life...you know, the mucousy spot on the carpet, the dribbles around the toilet, the teenage boy armpit that lands squarely on my shoulder...you get the idea. Also in my box is my reluctance to shake hands and whatnot. I'm no Howie Mandel or anything like that, I'm simply not a fan of the custom.
Anyway...I was at a Zumba class this morning. All and all it was really fun and awesome. Only thing was, about half way through, the substitute instructor told everybody to find a partner (Ack! Flashbacks to all the professional development ice breakers I've endured!!).
Lucky for me the lady nearest me looked to me and said: "Partners? There's no partners in Zumba."
Me: "Good, we'll not be partners together."
And we rocked it. We were two planets approximately orbiting one another (that possible, astrophysicists?), making no eye or physical contact. Awesome.
Substitute instructor: "OK, find a new partner!!"
Me: "Can't we just keep the same one?" (under my breath, of course, I'm not rude or anything and don't like to make a scene)
But before I could say, "I need to go wash my hair," a dude (one of only two in the room) came over to me, all smiles, moist hands out, and I...um...took them. Well, I don't know what the rest of the room was doing, but he had me jitterbugging all over the place. And then he spun me...and I spun and I spun and I spun.
And then it was over. Woozy from all the spinning and hand touching I attempted some groovy grapevines...bet you wish you were there...I'm sure I was amazing!
Go ahead and "like" my blog post...it'll be as soothing as aloe vera on a sunburn.