Dear future hubster,
ever since Dr. Simon recommended that I dance to my own beat when stressed, emotional, overwhelmed, or simply need to express things I have no other way to express, I have been practicing rather regularly. I would describe my style as a mix of all 3 belly dancing moves I know, some good old headbanging, shaking everything Mother Nature gave me to shake, some poor imitation of line dancing moves and what I think should be polka if it was more elaborate, some jumping and fist-pumping and pointing other people do at concerts (where I normally just stand still), and of course dramatic moves to accompany my stadium anthem singing. You might refer to it as "versatile" if you ever have to discuss it.
Now why I'm telling you all this is because I want you to be warned: whenever I take a second Monday off and say that I don't have anything special planned, please know that most likely you will come home to some kind of soup enough to feed the Dothraki hordes, but also please know that this is not an invitation for you to come home early or unannounced.
Should you do so, you might find me in the kitchen, working on those soups and making a mess. Or in the living room, following Dr. Simon's advice, dancing it out. Probably naked.
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