This Week Can Eat a D*ck.

We got a phone call on Monday from our landlord. He never calls. They’re selling our house. We might have to move.

People have been acting up in my classes. Not as bad as the guy who once gave me the “eye roll” when I asked if anyone was new to yoga, but still. He inspired a whole column.

The TV in the living room broke. I went into panic mode. I started taking it apart, then I stopped myself.

I have what looks like a spider bit on my left wrist and it itches.

We’ve lived in this shabby little place for five years and we love it. Love. It. It’s the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere in my entire adult life.

The column with the eye-roller was called “Nice Attitude… Now Chatarunga Away From Me, Please.” Looking back, it’s kind of bitter on my part.

I thought it might be time for a new TV, but my husband talked me into buying a new part for $20.00.

My friend Jalee is deathly afraid of spiders and probably has the heebie-jeebies just thinking about that spider bite I have.

I have a sour attitude about the possibility of moving.

I once got the giggles so bad in yoga I had to leave for like 15 minutes.

I also once threw away a bunch of dishes instead of washing them. It just seemed so much easier.

An estimated 1 million spiders live in one acre of land. The number might be closer to 3 million in the tropics. It is estimated that a human is never more than 10 feet away from a spider—ever.

The real estate people are coming in seven minutes.

I have to plan my yoga class for today. We’ll probably do heart openers because Valentine’s Day is coming up. It’ll be a sweet little class.

It’s very quiet in the living room with no TV.

Never Google “spider bite” images.

At least the house is clean.

“A heart is not judged by how much you love, but how much you are loved by others.” ~The Wizard of Oz, to the Tin Man

If the new TV part doesn’t work, I’m booking to Frye’s.

I would post a very disturbing photo of what’s called a “Brazilian Wandering Spider” here but I don’t want to freak Jalee out any more than necessary.

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Written by Anne Clendening
Anne Clendening was born and raised in L.A. She's a yoga teacher, a writer and occasionally slings cocktails in a Hollywood bar. She could eat chocolate cake for every meal of the day. She has a huge fear of heights and flying. And fire. She wishes she could speak French, play her guitar better and make cannoli. She's probably listening to The Dark Side Of The Moon right now, kickin’ it with her boxer dog and her hot Australian husband ★