When I grow up I want to be a massage critic. And an ice cream critic. Well. Anything that’s pleasant critic.
Massages are so relaxing. I try to go biweekly. Not really a problem trying to fit them into my schedule. They make their own holes. Actually they don’t have to weasel their way in. They burn a hole right through my planner. I will move mountains to make them possible. I might even go so far as to postpone my own wedding.