Rubbing me the right way

I’ll be getting two MORE massages over the next year.

What out-of-the-blue thing was my wife planning one night a couple of months ago, when she told me to keep the evening free? She booked me for a massage! As often as I have mentioned massage in this blog, I believe it’s been four years since I actually received one from a professional masseuse.

My wife met her at a Farmers Market in Albany, though her practice is in Troy. Now, understand that these two cities are in the same metropolitan area, but as most people who actually live here, getting an Albanian to go to the Trojan city is akin to climbing Everest, even though it’s only a dozen miles away. It’s some parochial thing that I just can’t adequately explain.

The massage took place in a chiropractor’s office; perhaps she is renting space. On the whiteboard was this handwritten message: “Do you know what is the leading cause of acute liver failure? Acetaminophen (Tylenol). There is an FDA warning regarding the overuse of the OTC drug.

The masseuse asked when I had given blood; I wondered how she knew until I looked at my bandage, which reads, “Give.” Told her it was about 10 hours ago, which she thought was good. Apparently, some folks go right from donating, from which they are feeling woozy, to the massage. A couple of hours in between is suggested.

My wife got a six-pack of massages for us, which means I’ll be getting two MORE over the next year, and she three, which will be nice. I was trying to figure out how many massages would it require for me to say, “Oh, no, I’ll pass”? Once a week? Nah. Once a day? Probably more like it!

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