I saw the PT again today, and she was pleased to hear that I didn't skate last night. "I was a good girl," I told her. She agreed.

I showed her a sore spot on my shoulder, and she said it was really my neck. (I had no idea my neck-bones extended so far!) She worked on it for me, even though it wasn't actually shoulder-related. Then she was working on my shoulder, and she was surprised that it was also still very tight. Basically, the whole neck/shoulder area was a bit of a mess.

"So what does your boyfriend do?" she asked me.

I had told her awhile back that I used to frequently ask my boyfriend to crack my back for me. I considered explaining that really he wasn't actually my boyfriend anymore, but we still liked each other a lot and hung out and stuff. I decided that was much too complicated and not worth the trouble to explain, so I just said, "He does computer security."

"Computers computers," she said, shaking her head. "You need a therapist of your own."

"I know!" I exclaimed. "That's what I've always said!!" I've often thought that what I really need is somebody to put me back together at the end of each day. It was kind of nice to have her validate that opinion.

Maybe next time I see her, I can just sneak her home with me.

Oh, and why wasn't Virginia Woolfe a twin?
She wanted to have a womb of her own.

Tags: dating