Twitter told me that today was national stress awareness day, or something like that. Oh, really. How appropriate then, that I learned this once I arrived home from a two hour massage. Normally, this is something I treat myself to on my birthday, or within a day or two of it, but I was just too stressed out and busy with school and the new Park to spare two whole hours plus travel time. I let myself get stiff and sore and tense over the last two months since my last trip to the spa, to the point that I could have used another session as soon as this one was over. My back was like concrete, and the therapist spent the first full hour and then some digging into the band across my shoulderblades and a few inches either direction. Now I can barely sit against a stack of pillows. She didn't give up until the muscles were soft and flexible, and now all I am is bruised. Some sort of ice might be in order.
Maybe I will just spend the night outside. It started raining at dark, and about four hours from now, that rain is supposed to switch over to ice and snow. I can't wait to wake up tomorrow morning. I never think that, but here I am, excited to look out the window at first light. The ground is still warm, and any snow will melt rapidly. By the time I have finished my first cup of coffee in the morning, I expect every bit of it to be gone. This counts, though, as the first snow. Bring it. I'm ready.
Until then, maybe a tall glass of water, some more Advil, and perhaps a short glass of whiskey.
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