Boynton is always saying to me, "T, you should get a head massage." Well, as unlikely as that prospect seemed, yesterday I did. At Donc Shoppingtown. This mini Odd Job, brandishing thumbs the size of forearms, ordered me to "Sit!" and set about inflicting pain. Pain in the name of good health and well-being, of course, but pain all the same. Not that I'm convinced about the good health an well-being bit, either. Sure, my vision went fuzzy, which may be a good sign, but what I really wanted to do was go to sleep. For ten bucks I could have stayed at home, eaten a big meal and had a doze. Still, I've this vague sensation it WAS good for me, I just don't know how.
I'm hoping Boynton now starts with the "T, you should win the lottery." It would be bound to happen. I mean, how hard can it be? 6, 7, 17, 23, 25, 32. I take it Tatts make contact when you win? "Congratulations, we saw the winning numbers on your blog and guess what? You've WON NINE MILLION DOLLARS!" Or do I have to put the numbers somewhere?