It seems like practically everyone we know is doing a Cleanse of some kind. Master Cleanse, juice cleanse, high-protein cleanse.
Cleanse, cleanse, cleanse.
The peer pressure has simply gotten to be too much.
I hereby announce that I’m doing a Spring Cleanse.
I started last night. I call it The Margarita Cleanse.
It was working well until I felt the need to demonstrate to husband the baboon behavior that resembles the yogic sun salutation series. Then it was still working well, but one whole side of the Taqueria got pretty quiet while I held my arms up in the air and screeched.
OK, I didn’t really screech, but I probably should have. Just holding my arms up in the air probably looked ridiculous.
This morning, I’d like to request that you not do any screeching.