My son, Jared, gave me a gift card for a massage and a facial at NorthPointe's spa. The card was in that pretty netting sleeve with the spa services brochure. I can't imagine a more wonderful gift.
Tomorrow, I'll work from 8:00 until noon. From there, I'll drive straight to NorthPointe for a workout. After exercising hard, I'll shower. With some time to spare before my 3:00 massage appointment, I plan to sit with a book by the fireplace in the main lobby just outside the spa. (I've never allowed myself that luxury before).
I absolutely love massages and can't wait for an entire hour of total relaxation. I've had maybe two or three massages in my life. I can't explain the heavenly sense of peace and well-being that I've felt. It feels so, so, so good to be pampered and treated like a queen. The only thing I won't like is when it's over. I won't want to break the spell that massages put me in.
I foresee that when my masseur is finished with me and tells me I should get dressed, I may just ignore her. Instead of cooperating, I'll just lie there. She'll be sweet but insistent and I'll make a deal with her. I'll promise to leave without making a scene if she promises to find someone to carry me from the spa all the way to my truck. I doubt my body will be up for the long walk.
I really will be as close to heaven tomorrow as I'll ever get while still here on Earth.
Twenty-four hours later: I've had my massage and if you'd like to read about how it went, please go to the 5th comment below.