A position no yogini ever recommends
I should have known when he answered the phone “Hello daughter,” in that maestro-level surly voice he uses when the uglies have hit the fan and his manners have hit the wall. Oh dear. I’m so glad I called.
“It’s like hiking knee deep through a blizzard. There’s just so much stuff!” my father lamented. To be fair, the thermometer read a few degrees over 100 Fahrenheit, probably in…