because you just might freaking get it.
In ways I never imagined.
I did get a pedicure this afternoon. I made the appointment for 5:15, thinking that the yard work would be done by then, and I would be settling back with a beer (Alexander Keith's, as domestic as it gets, hbacmama), some barbecue, and looking forward to an evening of knitting.
Well, no yard work was done, no wine stuff was done, and certainly no housework was done. The intended barbecue was stuffed into the oven for an hour and the veggies were microwaved.
I spent the entire day deeply and intensely involved in some serious "suggested readings" Oi. I understand, now, why people think being an accountant is boring. It's because accountants are bad writers.
Anyway, earlier in the week, I threatened to get a massage (which is a huge deal for me. I hate the idea of sitting there, while someone else touches me, and I can't knit!).
The featured special, at the shop close to my house was a "spa pedicure" for $20. I made my appointment, saying that I only wanted a "basic, garden variety" pedicure. Well, I placed my feet in the tub, settled down with my reading and... the seat began to vibrate.
So, I thought I would roll with it. Let the seat have its way with me, so to speak.
I could hardly walk, when I got out of the chair. Four hours later, and my back and left leg hurt even more.
What I was thinking of doing, when I suggested a massage, was going to see one of my many friends whose first initial is "D" and happens to be a registered massage therapist. D always has told me to not see her when I'm in pain. I should go when I am feeling good.
I am waiting to feel good. It's not happening. Now, where's that insurance card?
But it wasn't a complete waste of time. My toenails are a shocking shade of pink now. Did you expect anything less?