whoronica just left. Two hours of lovely, painful massage. A good massage should hurt just a bit. I haven't looked in the mirror yet to see if I have bruises, but already I can feel my muscles ache. I will sleep well tonight, and tomorrow i will walk like an old man. And I will love it. (For the record, we hung out afterward while she looked through my New Zealand photographs and I regaled her with tales of my exploits in the land of the southern cross.)
- Mood:
sore
Soreness, or the wonder that is massage
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