You know, it really ought to be Tuesday today. That’s what my mind keeps telling me. Our first day back at work last week was Tuesday, because of the holiday, and now I can’t come to terms with the fact that it’s Monday. To cap it all, I’ve got to go to the chiropractor after work.
My chiropractor always keeps me waiting at least half an hour after my appointment time, the receptionist is ridiculously perky and bubbly. It’s like, she’s in a perpetual state of just having won the lottery. That’s nice, but it’s also irritating when you’re waiting for ages after a long day at work and no-one says sorry for the delay. And the whole place smells like REALLY bad feet. (Actually, just for today that’s a good thing; I forgot my towel so I wasn’t able to have a shower after the gym. At least she won’t be able to smell me.)
I also share my chiropractor with the Man. He’s only been about twice, and I had to drag him there kicking and screaming. Funnily enough, he never complained about the smell, though the waiting time and the insanely chirpy receptionist did wear at his nerves a bit. Something must have impressed him though because for ever after he’s wanted to play chiropractors (in the manner of children playing doctors and nurses). Whenever he has a sore or achy back he goes, “Sprite, will you crack my back for me? Can you do that thing Ms Chiropractor does where she twists you…” (he demonstrates) “…and goes ‘whack’!!”
Me: “Err, I think you have to have about seven years of chiropractic training to do that.”
Man: “But I know exactly what she does. She does it to you too. You know what she does, right?”
Me: “Look, if I render you paraplegic in half a second’s ill-judged amateur chiropractic, I’m not going to spend the rest of our lives caring for you, ok?”
He really is a bit dumb sometimes. You’ve heard of assisted suicide? It’s a good job I’m not as suicidally stupid as he is or I could be up for assisted self-incapacitation.
Oh, the seductive call of the disability pension!
Anyway, off to brave the rain and traffic and get this thing over and done with.
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6 comments:
I think I would die laughing if my boyfriend asked me to "play chiropractor". That is awesome.
hahaha I always make my boyfriend ceack my back. I'm certain I'll be one of those hunchbacked little old ladies by the time I'm 40.
*crack. because seriously, ceack is not even close to a word!
At least he's never asked me to play dentists. It would be like a scene from 'Hostel'.
I let the Man ceack my back sometimes. He loves doing it. And my back used to crack spontaneously so much before I started visiting the chiropractor. It was like a skeletal percussion solo. He used to love that too.
My spine is weeping hearing about a Chrio appointment, I REALLY need to just set one.
I am glad you resisted the urge to not play Chiropractor, it does seem so easy the way they twist and press on spines but I would like to think it's much harder than it looks.
One would hope so anyways, I'd be pretty cheesed to have racked up all that HECS debt for something I could have learned after one appointment :P
Yeah, my chiropractor drives a flashy sports car. I like to think it took more than a term of evening classes to get where she is today!
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