"Marty, how are you doing?"
I turned around. The person giving the chair massages was my friend Louisa. She's the wife of my friend Matt from the English Department. (He teaches non-fiction writing and poetry and is sickeningly talented.) Lou is from South Africa and has a great Afrikaans accent. She is the loveliest person alive.
So I joined the line for a massage. I knew that Lou was a massage therapist, but, oh my God, she's a freakin' massage miracle worker. She went to work on my back for about ten minutes. She pushed and pressured and rubbed. The whole time, we were gabbing about English Department politics and her husband and classes. When I got out of her chair, I felt absolutely loose and energized. Still do.
My shoulders are relaxed. My head has this nice buzz, like I'm thinking more clearly. If I had a glass of wine right now, I'd pass out. I just e-mailed Matt and told him his wife could put her hands on my body any time she wants.
Saint Marty is feeling fantastic.
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