Oh Karma, Why must you torture me? 1/8/2015

Last time we went to India, John's piriformis acted up and it was pretty painful. If you don't know what a piriformis is, it is a muscle deep in the cheek of your butt. It's a tough muscle to reach and his best massage skills still didn't do the trick. So he found this Ayurvedic store in Kerala and bought some special oil recommended by a doctor there. It was really strong smelling and he smelled of it for much of the trip. After awhile, I took to calling it ass-oil, since the real name was impossible to pronounce.

On the way home, we were going through airport hell and I was in a rotten mood with the world. And when I'm in a rotten mood with the world, I typically take it out on John. (See "Marcia and the train" entry in earlier blog entries). So picture me lugging a ridiculous amount of baggage through the airport and discovering that John's ASS-oil had spilled all over our clothes and the bag and it reeked of ASS-oil everywhere. So there I am, tired and exhausted and complaining about HIS ASS-oil!

Now jump ahead three years and imagine me with a sore shoulder. Imagine me asking an Ayurvedic pharmacist for something for sore shoulders and he gives me this amazing product an OIL that nearly heals my aching shoulder. Can you smell it yet?

Now imagine it...yes...leaking and sharing it's delightful aroma with the rest of the clothes in MY bag.

Oh, Karma.

Yep...Karma.