All the husbands in muchkin land have been being naughty. My friends have all had altercations with their spousal units this past week, and my turn came Monday. Hubster was a jerk. Yes girls, you read right, my perfect Hubster was a turkey butt to.me.
I finished my test yesterday, and things were still sort of tense. I was sulking. He deserved it. So he invited me to ride into the city on a couple errands, and I accepted. Tough to give someone the silent treatment if they aren't there, I figured, so, I'd make sure he knew he was getting the silent treatment.
Bless his heart, he took me to get a facial.
My husband NEVER says I'm sorry. Ever. Not the words anyway. So I recognize this as an extremely sweet and nice gesture. The sweetest and nicest thing he's done in a long time, in fact.
But if that were all there was to this story, I wouldn't be dying to blog about it, now would I?
So we pull up in front of the Howard Hinkle Building. Howard Hinkle Construction, Leasing Office, Meeting Hall, and BEAUTY SALON.
No, I'm not kidding.
Hubster asks if I want to come in or wait, I chose to wait in the car. I was suspicious, but I wasn't gonna ask him why we were four blocks from where he said we were going. What good is the silent treatment if you aren't, well, silent.
He returned a short while later and said it was going to take a minute, please come in.
We went down a narrow hallway, past the BEAUTY SALON to a door that said "Body By Penny" "Massage, Facials, " and I couldn't read the rest. We were greeted by a small, round, black woman. We went into a small, windowless room decorated in the 1970's, and not once since then. He then paid the woman and LEFT ME. I was led into an even smaller windowless room and instructed to take off the shirt, put on the sheet, and lie on the table. Um, OK then. The shirt off thing wasn't really too creepy, but as I looked around the yellowed linoleum looking for a place to leave my shoes, I noticed the yellowed towels and wondered how many sweaty bodies it actually TAKES to make white towels turn yellow.
When I had K, they gave me a drug to stop my labor so they could do a c-section. It messed with my mind. I remember thinking, "Hubster, get my shoes. I need my shooooooeeeesssss." There were no drugs to induce those thoughts yesterday.
Mind over matter, I told myself. I was there by myself, with no hope of escape, and by now I was actually chuckling over my husbands good intentions as I tried to ensure my personal safety.
I hopped on the table and this bubbly black woman came in and told me her life's story while she washed my face. She used some sort of rotary device, you know the kind you see in the back of magazines and on info-mercials? And she buffed and exfoliated and *sniff* is that Noxema I smell? I had the horrifying thought that the stone she was using to scrape off my face might also be the stone she uses to scrape the calluses off her clients feet, but I squeezed my eyes shut really, really tight and hoped for the best. It really wasn't completely horrible, as long as I haven't contracted some sort of rash that eats off half my face by next week, I'll start breathing again.
When Hubster came back to
Now WHERE did I leave those business cards from the day spa? I'm thinking I will tape one to my computer monitor to ward off any future attacks of uninformed kindness on the part of my husband.
3 comments:
That really was sweet of him! But also so funny about the chosen venue. I suppose it was a kindness to her, too. I can't imagine she gets much business, repeat business anyway!
Just think --- if we were dogs and had regular inoculations against assorted diseases, we could relax and enjoy having a foot pumice shoved up our nasal mucousa. Hubster sounds like a real gem. Oh, and congrats on passing your CLEP test.
Bwaahahahahaha!! I about peed my pants!!
"I noticed the yellowed towels and wondered how many sweaty bodies it actually TAKES to make white towels turn yellow." Made me throw up just a little.
Bless his heart.
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