saga of the massage

Normal people work.

The Hater says that single fact is the reason that we have a story to tell at all.

This past Christmas The Hater was given a gift certificate for a half-hour massage from someone at work. He's the greatest husband ever, so obviously he gave the certificate to me. We were really excited and called the lady to make an appointment.

We called her early January to make an appointment. She had a few openings during weekdays, but those times weren't acceptable for our working schedules. We have this problem with banking hours and insurance office hours, too.

The first opening for an appointment on a Saturday or on an evening was in April. The masseuse said she was very popular and very busy; most people book her months in advance. So we booked the half hour massage for April, knowing that the certificate would expire in May.

Tra-la-tra-la-tra-la. We waited for the upcoming massage with much excitement and glee.

And then the c-bomb exploded our plans. The Hater called her and she agreed to move the massage to July. He received another half-hour massage certificate from the same people, which means now we have two certificates to try to schedule.

The April surgery passed. Time passed. Tra-la-tra-la-tra-la.

But wait! Another surgery to foil the plot! Today was to be the day that we scheduled the remake from the first scheduled massage, but obviously that isn't going to happen. I don't fit the "fit to be massaged" criteria because of the surgery.

So we're back where we started, now the proud owners of two certificates for 30 minute massages, one of which is expired. If we were to call today to schedule an appointment, it would probably be November before there was an opening, but that's only if someone cancels because she's booked solid until the end of the year.

The second certificate expires in August.

Meanwhile, my neck is healing nicely, albeit slightly bruised. My shoulders and back are really stiff and sore from moving around like a robot. The Hater, being the most wonderful husband in the world, rubbed my shoulders for me last night and really worked out a lot of the tension. He says he'll try to do it for me again tonight.

The moral of the story: Who needs a gift certificate for a massage when you're married to the most wonderful husband in the world?

The Hater says that his massages are not as good as the real person. He says his "are weak". However, he did not argue that he wasn't the most wonderful husband in the world. Instead he said I shouldn't be a bragger.