Stay right where you are black swirly fog, I have a gun.

I'm feeling better (getting a neck and shoulder massage from the husband while I type this helps! purrrrrrr).

Saturday morning I went to my beauty therapist and felt so much better for it. Traumatised, but good. I should have known when I walked in the door and found myself face to face with a fuming therapist that backing back out the door would have been the wiser option, but it wasn't until the bikini wax was underway that that one sunk in. There is a new store next door to her rooms which plays loud pop music, and it thumps through the walls something wicked. So, you're kind of getting the sounds of trickling water and flutey music punctuated by Christina Aguilera reaching similar pitches to what I did when I broke my toe. Not quite as serene an experience as normal, let's put it that way. My therapist has been doing battle with this other store over the volume of their music, and just before my appointment had the building manager in to hear it. He'd obviously then gone to the other store and told them to turn it down, which they did. For a bit. Bless them for cranking it up again half way through my wax. I didn't realise that I knew quite so much of the Our Father.

I then met up with some friends for a coffee which sealed the deal. I couldn't tell you how they managed to set me back on my feet, but they did.


Day one of jury duty tomorrow. How fun.