Yoga for Our Troops

Here’s the text of an email we received earlier in the week from building management:

As a result of sequestration, effective Friday, March 8^th the Frances Perkins Building (FPB) Facilities Management Office will be modifying the hours of operation for the FPB heating and cooling systems to achieve required savings detailed in OASAM’s sequestration plan.   Normally, the FPB heating and cooling systems are operational for 14 hours, from 5:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. daily.  In order to achieve the reductions required by the sequestration, the FPB hours of operation for the heating and cooling will be adjusted to the General Services Administration standard 10-hour operating day, from 7:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., Monday through Friday. 

We encourage you to prepare for the building being cooler/hotter in the morning and evening hours by:

–making sure that window blinds are opened or closed appropriately to maximize the sun’s effect,

–leaving private office doors open to maximize air circulation, and

–dressing appropriately, layered clothing that can be added or removed during the day.

We appreciate your cooperation as we implement these sequestration-driven cost reductions.

We apologize for any inconvenience.

Here’s what I wrote back (restraining myself from noting that when President Obama called upon federal workers to make suggestions for how to save money two years ago, I suggested that we change the dress code and the building temperature to reflect the season, not some outdated notion of what is “professional” dress and was resoundingly ignored):

This is fantastic news.  I have long advocated making the inside temperature more consistent with the outside weather for our health and for the environment.  I hope that you will keep a policy of spending less money and precious fossil fuels on heating and cooling even if the budget picture improves.

I’m thinking that building management doesn’t usually get positive feedback.  😉

Last night as I waited on the metro platform at Takoma Park after yoga class, a large man in a shabby black coat came up to me and said, “happy thanksgiving.”

“Happy thanksgiving,” I replied, thinking I like Thanksgiving better than I like Valentine’s Day, even considering the somewhat unsavory roots of both holidays.

“Oops,” he said, “I meant ‘happy Valentine’s Day; I’ve been getting that wrong all day.”

“That’s OK,” I said.  “Every day should be a day of thanks giving.”  I had been enjoying the day fully even though I had not engaged in any Hallmark-driven behavior and was feeling fully grateful for my life and not just because of the post-yoga class glow.

“I don’t have anyone to give red roses to any more,” the man lamented.  “My mother has passed; my grandma has passed.  I don’t have a girl right now.”

“Your mother and grandma are still here in your heart, and they know you love them.  They do not need roses,”  I offered.  “In fact, you have helped the world be a better place not buying any roses today.  Most bouquets of roses are laden with pesticides and cut and wrapped by women in poor countries who get sick from the pesticides.”  At this, a young woman watching me with commiseration lit up with a big smile.  Who would start giving advice on the hazards of Valentine’s Day flowers — I restrained myself from talking fair trade chocolate — in this situation?

“You’re nice,” the man said, “what’s your name?”  The metro was still not due for another eight minutes, and, being the introverted, cautious, small, middle-aged woman that I am and thus feeling a little pressured by his longing for someone to talk to, I did the verbal dance to extricate myself from the conversation and get back to the email I had been in the middle of reading.  He went away peaceably, so it was alright.