Lately I have always been in the middle of something. Always between tasks. Never in a convenient place for thought where I can write something down or get to a place where the thoughts are clear and manageable – not even to myself, let alone for the internetzzz. I feel like I have so many things to say they are fighting for space. It’s a good thing and it’s a terrible thing all at once. This post actually had way more paragraphs and my brain was every where, all over the map. It didn’t really make any sense, so through the power of deleting I have hopefully focused this crazy boat of words a little better.
I think I finally need to admit out loud that I do not like massages. I think I like massages. I get myself all jazzed up for massages, and then it turns out – NOPE. I spend the whole time fixating on things that do not allow me to relax. Like on Sunday, Kamel gave me a spa gift certificate (Part of our “loving each other better” campaign. I bought him an orchid. It was a big step for my “I don’t like plants in the house”-ness.), and I got a bikini wax and scheduled a massage (with hot stone and head massuesing add ons!). And then the whole time I was on the table I was thinking about the tip. I was hoping they could take a card for the tip because I didn’t bring any cash. And I was trying to calculate how much to tip them. And I was hoping I had enough on my debit card for the tip I was thinking about. Friday is pay day and this month is bullshit with paycheck timings. And then the stupid face-holder-round-pillow-with-a-hole-in-the-center thing always gives me the worst sinus headache. Like… insane sinus pressure that gives me a terrible stuffy nose and makes my eyelids swell. Even typing that – it doesn’t sound normal. But there it is. And a few times I’ve insisted on not using the face pillow thing, but this time I just hoped it would be different? I don’t know why. And then there was the part where the massage therapist, who just happened to be a guy (which also made my brain go in a million directions thankyouverymuch), literally tucked the sheet i was under into my butt crack so that he could massage my butt cheek. Which! Granted! Is a very large muscle. BUT! (Pun!) Because I am really a 5 year old trapped in a 28 year old body, I had a really hard time not laughing. And you’d think this would have been my first massage, au contraire, I have had many. Did he really need to TUCK the sheet into my crack, though? I mean… jeez. Basically I was releived when it was over, and I had a massive migraine from all the sinus pressure. When Kamel picked me up I vowed NEVER AGAIN. Maybe I’ll try a body wrap or one of the mud baths or soaking tub experiences…. but no. NO MORE MASSAGES. Hold me to it.
What else do I need to catch you up on? Oh, there will be a book post coming this week. AND a really cool Goods and Services post about a very unexpected product (coming atcha tomorrow). And lord help me I will bake a freaking bundt cake this weekend otherwise I will never make it through my book of bundts. And that right there would be a tragedy.
The apartment…. Well…. my books are still in boxes. I continued to be an unpacking failure last weekend and now it is the work week which means I’m lucky if I can find 20 minutes to write something interesting. I have nothing up on the walls, and the baby room is still not cleared out of stuff I need to find a permanent home for. Gahhh. We need to buy a level. Why is a level the hardest tool to convince ourselves we really need? It is totally preventing us from setting up our photos and pictures. And yet! We continue to drag our feet.
Lately my favorite words have been vestibule and pepita.