Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

Mildly odd morning

The whole morning was a little weird here. I went to get my back fixed, and the massage lady was really good but spent an unusual amount of time on what she called the "far lower back." Uh-huh. It amuses me endlessly to hear the euphemisms massage therapists come up with for the butt. Some of them are vastly inaccurate -- one of them asked if I wanted her to work on my "upper hips," and I said, in some confusion, "Sure, if there are knots there." (That time led to me coming home, pointing at my butt, and demanding of markgritter, "What is this?" He feared it was a trick question, but he can, in fact, tell my ass from first base.) (Please omit snarky comments about relative albedo. Thanks so much.)

I also lost all sense of space and time for a few minutes, so I had no idea what time it was or what I would be doing next, which is always a little weird to come out of, especially when what brings you back to yourself is an elbow in a spot on your left shoulder that makes your entire body twitch at once. Ahh, neuromuscular system. Strange stuff.

Then I went to buy birthday cards for my cousin, my uncle, and my great-aunt and incidentally picked up a silly thing for my sister-in-law and a different thing for another great-aunt, plus address book refill pages. So they gave me a free "VIP gift bag." Err...okay. And in the VIP gift bag was a decapitated snowman mug. I'm not kidding. It's a snowman's body. There is even a hat in case your mug needs a lid. (???) But there is no head. They also had decapitated Santa mugs, which also disturbed me, but I didn't get one of those for free. Which is just as well: I really don't know what to do with the snowman. I don't want a decapitated snowman, but I don't want to give someone else one, either. Maybe there will be some charitable organization in search of mugs.

Yah, I doubt it, too.

Byerly's was distinctly normal, at least, except that I kept being inspired by things markgritter wouldn't want, so I stocked up for next week when he's in California. Squash! Brussels sprouts and chestnuts! Etc.! Also there will be comparative truffle-tasting this Christmas. We will discover whether my friends and relations have low tastes. If so, we will indulge them. If not, we will still indulge them. That's what friends and relations are for.

I keep thinking I should ship something to somebody, but I have no idea what or whom. If I was supposed to send you green mittens or world peace in a bag, now's the time to speak up.

Back to the book. Only not the one I meant.
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