I can not bring myself to go to the gym. I had every intention of going today, but after being detained 15 minutes into lunch, I decided, screw it. When I’d thought I couldn’t go to the gym for 4-6 weeks after my procedure, it seemed that all I wanted was to be able to go. Now that I am able to go, I suddenly feel lazy and uninspired. Today marks a full week after my LEEP surgery. Well, maybe tomorrow I can start fresh.

Meanwhile, now faced with a lunchtime of no plans, I wish I’d brought my harmonica to practice on. I’d been saying for awhile, completely not intending for it to be a hint whatsoever, that I wished I had a harmonica. I play the piano, but you can’t arbitrarily whip a piano out of your butt and start playing when the whim strikes. But a harmonica, I can keep in my purse and use it to entertain (or annoy, most likely) at any given time in any given company. On Christmas Eve, I found myself the shocked and delighted recipient of a real harmonica, complete with a how-to CD-Rom and tutorial songbook. Mr. W and I had agreed to not exchange gifts this Christmas, but he apparently found something irresistable that I don’t already have because I don’t need it and would never have gone out and purchased for myself. (I got him some nutrition and workout books to feed his current health obsession and a humor book entitled “How Not to Ruin the Biggest Day of HER Life: A Groom’s Secret Handbook”.) Despite stuff I’d said about wanting a harmonica, I wasn’t serious about it — it was one of those quirky things or observations I’d say, like how I’ve said for awhile that I want an elephant because it’d be neat to create memories for a creature that “never forgets,” but I didn’t see any giant packages arriving from Mr. W. So I guess he’s selective about the bluffs he calls me on. But think about it — little Asian girl. Harmonica. Not piano, not violin, not a perfect score on the math portion of the SATs. How unstereotypical.

My harmonican goal is to play Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” which I picture in my head will be revealed when some friend of mine is bitching about something, and then wordless I’d simply reach into my back pocket, pull out a shiny silver object, and then the perky melody of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” would permeate the air as I rock out in tune to the music, tapping a foot, bending upper body to and fro, right hand fluttering in front of the harmonica doing the “wah-wah” effect. My friend would be staring at me mouth agape, “Wha — how did you — when did you — a harmonica?” and then start laughing and all will be well with the world.