Can you sue for receiving a bad massage? What if it was free?

I was trying to avoid posting anything for ages because I know if I did I would bring up the weather because it was too good to be true. We had may days where the forecast would be rain, but the meteorologists were obviously smoking the ganj because we had a string of beautiful, warm days.

And, as of this morning, that’s over. Moving on.

Life has been particularly boring recently, so it’s not like I had anything to post about anyway. We hare puttering along in our quaint life quite nicely with not much to complain about and a lot to be grateful for. Even seeing those words typed out onto the page, it makes me want to puke on myself.

I feel it’s another one of those times where I have to explain how much I like it here and how long it took me to get to that place. Right now, despite the rain and cold, I really wouldn’t want to be living anywhere else. Sure it might be sunny in another place, but it would also be hot and sticky. A few days ago we had a random and rare muggy day and while I was walking to work from the train station I was all, wait a minute, I know this feeling. I’m uncomfortable, having a difficult time breathing and not I’m not doing anything that could even be marginally described as ‘athletic’. Oh. This is humidity. I remember how much this blows.

This weekend we head off to the country side again where Bub’s throat will close because of his hay fever, but I actually enjoy because I feel there is nothing as relaxing as the Irish country side and the sound of a man suffocated in his own mucus. The smell of cow poo, and endless fields of grass is just where I want to be right now and four o’clock on Friday can’t come fast enough. I had a massage a few weeks ago and it felt like the woman was beating me with iron gargoyles holding a machete. I figured she was a bad masseuse and discussed this possibility with a colleague of mine who also happens to be a massage therapist on the side, as she was the next to go in with the woman. Yes, my work sponsors occasional massages for staff because we’re a tightly wound bunch. We have a great group trick where we each take a piece of coal and...anyway, I’m sure you’ve seen it before.

She told me that, with no minced words, the lady had a soft touch and I needed to grow a pair. Or seek therapy for my stress issues. Either way, that massage shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. This tells me that I need some time away from my job which, let me be honest, is causing me a lot of anxiety lately, and some time away from our apartment in Dublin. I want to get away to Wexford to relax and possibly come back a less wound up person with just coal coming out of her butt instead of diamonds.

Leave a comment -

Liz in Dublin