I’ve been avoiding terms like “mini-me” “OMG” and “staycation” out of habit. But really, the only way to describe my President’s Day away from work is that it was indeed, well, a “staycation” in the very best sense of the term. I went to a spa in Capitol Hill yesterday, a mile from my place, called Hothouse. It was a clean, silent and really simple space run by women where you pay ten bucks and stay all day. I spent the afternoon in a circle–a hot tub to cold plunge to steam room to dry sauna rotation.

I imagined my that my pores were really blooming tea, held together by microscopic strings in the dry sauna that jumped apart in the cold plunge. This moving from hot to cold is supposed to improve circulation, scientifically speaking. But after an hour you’ll feel like a cowbell at the edge of a very open field, one dip of wind and what you thought were mechanics was really skin all along.

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