Saturday, June 5, 2010

The rub down

Nothing beats a good massage, right?

Bekah promised me an hour-long massage on Valentines Day, and today, she followed through with that commitment. To be honest, I'd forgotten she'd ever made that vow, but she kept her word. It's a four month delay, but good things come to those who wait. And that was a good massage.

However, as much as I tried to crawl into my nothing box to think about nothing while getting rubbed, there was one thought I couldn't escape. They were playing Enya through the house speakers. That reminded me of the massage therapy I had after a bad car accident twelve years ago; that masseuse played nothing but Enya in the office he shared with my chiropractor. The more I pondered that deduction, I could not bring to mind a single massage parlor (that I've been to) that has played anything other than Enya.

That prompted me to pose a question on facebook: Is there an unwritten law in massage therapy that requires all masseuses must play Enya while giving massages?

To which my brother-in-law replied: No, I'm sure it's really written somewhere.

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