Chop This

Every morning, I wake up disappointed.  My nose is stuffed and my face from upper teeth through my left eye feels like a perpetual Novocaine headache.  I slowly sit up and wait to see if it's going to be a spinner day.  A spinner can suddenly hit, sometimes while standing, but usually when I first lie down or get up. Either way, I list to the right, like a drunken sailor, but I'm getting used to it.  At least I haven't been nauseous for two days.

My big outing today was a surprise.  I thought I was going to just sit in the car while the Mister went to Orvis and Office Depot.  Thrilling. Like a little old lady, just waiting.  He brought me to Funky Foot Massage in Bellevue instead for an hour massage.  I was excited;  who doesn't love a good foot massage?   I assumed it would be like a pedicure, which I normally love, but no, you lay in a recliner in  room with about 20 other people, who at least aren't talking.  Soak your feet in a tub, okay, that sounds good.  Then this big non-English speaking brute wants to rub me through my clothes. Okay, I guess so.  But then, he wants to rub my face.  I kept saying, "No, broken" and he kept trying.  I said, "No touch" and hoped I knew more Kung Fu than he did.  He finally gave up and moved to my head and shoulders which was tolerable. When we got to the feet, I thought, "Now we're talking", but no, some more weird crap.  Flick the top of the toes one by one and then karate chop my shins.  WTF???  More back and forth about the face.  Okay, compromise by sitting up and letting him grab my neck like he was going to wring it and then chop on my back.  Tip to other staff:  chewing and snapping gum does not make a pleasant massage experience.  Nor does wailing cats in competition with dying weasel music.

It was a very touching gesture by the Mister, but I'm exhausted.