Thanks to a generous gift certificate from my former coworkers -- (well, I don't know how generous it was considering I was first laid off, then given the certificate, but we'll assume the givers weren't the guilty parties) -- I have just returned from my first (and most likely last due to my aforementioned state of poverty and practicality) prenatal massage. One word: bliss.
Although little Miss Dub necessitates me laying on my side instead of my back and much of the massaging is more gentle than I usually like -- (when they ask how hard you like your massage using a scale of 1 to 10, I typically say, "Eleven") -- it still felt so good. There's something about being pampered that is just delicious. From the top of my head to the bottom of my feet -- (where even my cracked calluses and ticklish tendencies didn't spoil the soothing sensation ) -- I was gently lulled into a state of total relaxation.
So much so that even when I attempted to buy groceries in record time -- (at Walmart, nonetheless) -- not even having to double-back to the same aisle three times due to my forgetfulness and poor list-making skills could get me down. I'm invincible. And seriously considering stealing to pay for my next massage.
Have any valuables in unsecured places?
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