Recently I had a bad shoulder knot — the kind that hangs around for days and makes things like typing and cooking and everything else highly annoying. As has often happened before when one of us has needed serious rubbing, we floated the idea of getting a massage table of our own.
And this time we did it.
It isn’t fancy, as tables go. It’s definitely for home use, not professional. But it’s comfortable and folds up nicely, and it’s such an unbelievable luxury to get a real massage on it.
The kids were of course intrigued by this new addition to the household, and after they’d climbed on it and peered through the face rest and done all the obvious, natural things with it, they both condescended to get a massage. Nathan liked it all right, but was done quickly. But Ryan was happy to stay for perhaps fifteen minutes, and has asked for massages multiple times since. I think he’s in the process of developing a lifelong addiction.