On Wednesday evening I had the misfortune of slipping on a wet floor that had been mopped but not signed. You know the kind of slip, a very unexpected jolt where you instinctively stop yourself from going down. It probably would have been better if I just let myself awkwardly drop to the floor like a sack of wet mice.
As a result I was left with a pull in my upper back muscles and a rather interesting, slight kink in my neck. Thursday it was off to work, by Friday morning it was much more noticeable so I took the day off work and went for a therapeutic massage. The legitimate kind. Can't get a neck adjustment until Tuesday.
I've never stopped to list the five greatest pleasures in life, but massage has to be in there somewhere. Some people have never had it, amazingly there are those who just don't like to be touched and can't relax enough to appreciate it. (I've had conversations with my RMT about this). I'll never understand it, but to each their own I guess. An hour on the table seemed to help a fair bit.
After I got home it was into a hot bath with epsom salts and suds. Yeah, I'll admit it, I like bubble baths. There I said it. This is something that most guys would never admit to; you'll never hear the topic mixed in with the latest sports conversations. But I don't discuss sports much anyway, so maybe the same rules don't apply.
So there I am soaking in a tub of hot water, eyes closed. All of a sudden Dante (our one year-old black domestic shorthair) decides to start licking my big toe. Now, being nearly six feet tall it's almost impossible for me to find a tub in which I could comfortably stretch out; this necessitates some rather interesting underwater yoga-like poses to keep my extremeties submerged.
The toe-licking makes it kinda hard to relax. Once the chewing starts I shoo him away. This is soon followed by batting the shower curtain, and subsequently almost knocking my plastic glass full of ice cold water all over me.
God made cats cute so we don't kill them.