Thank you for that. It was heavenly. I apologize for fidgeting a tiny bit, though, when you got to the toes. My ticklishness is out of control. But for you, I did try. Yes, I’m glad you gasped when I told you my last massage was a year ago. That somewhat melodramatic reaction was albeit a good reminder that there’s no reason for me to allow 12 months to go by without a good massage. Thanks for also working out all the kinks in my poor, sinusy head. I suppose there’s no need to go beyond the generous, well-deserved tip I gave you, but I’ll be getting started on that statue erected in your name pretty soon. Because your hands were awesome.
A Relaxed KHM
This day is already starting out bad.
I woke up late and exhausted (no one’s fault but my own; there’s no reason why I need to watch The Nanny at the wee hours of the morning, although the show is utterly hilarious); a cold rain is currently pounding the atmosphere (and I forgot my gloves, so, naturally, my hands instantly turned into icicles); certain ones I share the office with are extremely moody (no explanation needed); I have absolutely no motivation to do anything right now. And I’m cranky.
I hate days like this.
I would love to see a play or show right about now. I think the last time I saw good, live theatre (of course, I’m not counting a local high school’s production of “You Can’t take it With You,” which was, uh, horrible) was about 4 years ago, when, kind of on a whim, I drove down to Signature Theater and saw a mahvelous musical called “110 in the Shade.” It was awesome, I had a good seat, it was terrific. I’d like to do that again. There’s just something about theatre. I’m a nerd, but I loves it.
It’s yet another rainy day. I’ve gotten to a point where–rather than standing in the street and shaking my fist at the cloudy sky–I’ve accepted that there will be rainy days. It can’t be sunny all the time. Flowers need to grow. Grass needs to grow. (Never mind that we’ve surpassed every record in the book, as far as rain is concerned, and that this corner of the earth is practically drowning). I’ve made peace. (Two weeks from now? When I’m shaking my fist at the cloudy sky? The above-mentioned words will mean absolutely nothing).
We had an audience during my workout class last night. It was a little surreal and wierd. Out of nowhere, a whole group of bystanders were standing by the OPEN doors (I don’t get why people nearby just don’t close them), watching us sweat and jump around like lunatics. One woman was smiling and clapping along, like we were putting on a show. Another guy seemed to be studying the moves–either that or there was a camera somewhere and we’re all minutes away from seeing ourselves on YouTube. It was insane.
As I’m prone to say, onwards and upwards.
I don’t like a particular feeling that tends to consume me every now and then. I feel strange, confused, frustrated, edgy. I call it restlessness, for the purposes of giving it a name, and because I believe that the feeling is akin to being restless. Itching for something, unable to sit still or calm down, just being all over the place, uneasy. It happens from time to time. I don’t understand it, nor do I know what it will take to settle myself down. Crazy.
The weekend was the weekend. Much too fast, much too quick.
My penchant for falling asleep at the most inopportune times was recently acknowledged by a co-worker of mine. To my everlasting horror, of course. There I was, taking my leftover diet sodas and drinks to the breakroom. He waves me over. With a smile on his face (likely because he assumes I will deny it and call it a mistake), he comments that he could have “sworn” that I fell asleep during the meeting from the day before. I too smile (like the cat that swallowed the canary) and mutter that I “closed my eyes for a bit.” Later on, in the breakroom, I commence with talking to myself. I’ve been discovered! Who else saw this? I’m fired! I’m in trouble! So on and so forth. Time to fall in love with Red Bull.