I should have known that one of these weeks (during my 10-week Adult Beginner Ballet course through Northwest Dance Project) there’d be no time for a contemplative pre-ballet-class stroll, that something (like a guest spot on a Wanderlust Circus Orchestra bill) would send me darting downtown by car, wedging into an “entertainment district” loading zone the second the clock hit 7, hastily dropping off a bouzouki player in front of Dante’s and speed-striding up to PSU in my full ballet-lesson regalia.
I was (almost) late, and to compound my rush, the class had moved up a floor to make use of a room with better AC. Phew.
Now maybe someone can explain to me what the hell has happened to my body. Because it seems to be…suddenly better. And I demand answers.