Yoga floozies.

My Monday night yoga class has been invaded by what I can only call...yoga floozies. Four young women who decided to take the class together, air-kiss each other when they arrive, wear different cute yoga fashions each week, gossip before class, titter during the asanas, and flirt with the instructor.

([Pause.] Do I sound like John Roberts? I really hope I don't sound like John Roberts.)

It's annoying to me, because I very much enjoyed the mix of folks we had before, which was basically, OK, not a mix at all, but a bunch of crabby middle-aged folks who wear the same scruffy clothes every week.

I suppose I can just consider this fodder for detachment...