There is something so pleasing in a simple rub of the piggies… I could sit near comatose from a good rub for hours, were it monetarily possible for me to do so. Whether it’s a nail tech in the mall treating my feet, or some angelic soul with strong, generous hands manipulating my muscles at Burke Williams, I’m at my happiest in times of massage.
And why shouldn’t I be? It’s such a simple thing – the right touch and your stiff shoulders are miles away… the cramped fingers from hours of typing are long forgotten, the cell phone turned off and tucked away… I mean, I really believe that Heaven must have an all you can eat buffett filled with your favorite foods and a spa where you can get massaged as long as you like.
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