I Can Sense Your Impatience

I can sense your impatience... While yours truly (me) doth strives to maintain comfortably seated closed eye meditative pose mine skinny sea thru legs (mere fo' shaw by George spindleshanks) outstretched, (cuz Lotus position impossible mission - would warrant emergency circumstance leaving stalwart fellow as permanent paraplegic) even crossed legs painstaking ordeal), nevertheless arms draped limply and/or tucked under respective knobby knee herewith barely audible sighs Ahab boomerang reverberating sound can be faintly yet clearly heard courtesy thee self trained ventriloquist missus indicating slightly perturbed air immediately disrupting mine ascent into transcendent state, which self induced light quasi hypnotic trance doomed to suffer blistering defeat despite best guru vee college try subjected to additional pronounced relentless interruptions unavoidably eventually experiences heavy set bodily mass loosing violent figurative waters witnessing severe mattress flexion testing material strength jackknifing irksome husband precariously rocking zen rolling poor buoy to and fro, hither and yon him sternly clinging against steep odds tossing last raft of lifeline before pitching the dreadfully knotted sir into limbo challenging laws of physics re: offsetting his center of gravity think skiff madly scrambling barreling, keeling, tipping over analogous to bobbing rickety weatherbeaten hulk landing headfirst upon wooden floor, where ohm man hiss expletives immediately supplanting formerly invoked mantra.