“Multi-tasking – the art of messing up several things at once.”
I’m doing it right now – listening to music, worrying about my elderly dog, checking Facebook, cleaning off my desk, typing this…
It’s an epidemic. I wrote a little story about how I found an up-side to it for DimeStories yesterday.
by Cindy Berg
It is like a ball pit for grownups, but instead of jumping into colorful plastic and screaming kids, I’m lying face-up in a heated bin of solid red clay marbles that conform to my body. Each time a new spa goer enters the room, the noise of their body weight displacing the round rocks drowns out everything. Popcorn kernels hitting a hot pan, with a thick pat of human fat melting on top, comes to mind.
The cave like room is softly lit. The noises from outside seem distant and unimportant. Heat seeps up from below until the sweat pops from my brow. My husband is lying to my left. All is warm. All is well.
Ba-rong-a-rong-a-rong. The man in the ball pit to the right of mine answers the full-volume robotic twang of his cell phone. I look up at the ceiling and laugh silently. There is picture of a phone with a big red X through it on the red clay ball room door – impossible to miss. But even here, in a room designed for relaxation, people refuse to disconnect.
Ba-rong-a-rong-a-rong. The same phone. A few more words I don’t understand, Korean perhaps.
Ba-rong-a-rong-a-rong. To his apparent surprise, cell reception isn’t very strong inside a heavy-walled, sauna cave located inside a cinder block building. The call keeps dropping. Yet he still won’t give up the quest to multi-task, to be productive while relaxing, to communicate with the outside world while retreating into the closest thing to a meditation cave he’s likely to ever experience in his hectic life.
I catch my husband’s eye and we smile. It was his first visit to a Korean spa so he didn’t know what to expect. I had told him about the lockers, the separate nude spas for men and women, the clothes provided for the shared sauna and relaxation areas – and to leave his cell phone in the car. And unlike the ring-a-ling-a-ding-dong, he was happy to unplug for a few hours.
So, I have to thank the man who disregarded the rules and disturbed the peace with his jarring ring tones. While I was imagining throwing his phone across the room, shattering it on the tile floor, or shoving it down his throat, I was also busy thinking of how much I love my husband, and how lucky I am to be sharing my life with him.