War of the Neurotic Worlds

Because of das boot (see PityParty below) I was forced against my will to go in for a massage. The following conversation pretty much takes place every time I go in for a massage. It is purely in my head and it drives me bawonko.

Zen Self: Oh, hey she's got an electric table warmer now. m-mmmmmmm. Now that's a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious idea. Can I get one of these? Do they sell them to regular people? Where would I put it? I think I would put it on the couch in front of the big screen. Good idea Mommacita. OOOOOOO-OOOOOO AHHHHHHHHHHH-HHHHHHH Wow. Big wow. Biggest wow ever.

Crazy Self: I hope she doesn't look at my moles and flab. Surely she has seen more moles and flab than this before. Surely. And she's remembering the more flabby and more moley people right now. At least I'm not hairy. Or zitty. That would be worse. I hope she's thinking that instead of mole and flab thoughts.

Zen Self: Oh, she's starting on my back and neck. I love the back and neck part. I love that part where she goes up every vertebrae. Oh here she goes. Yep. Good as I remembered. How can she just know where the spots are that need a massage? She's amazing. She's an angel. An angel of mercy. Alita the Angel of Mercy. That's her new name from now on.

Crazy Self: Where should I put my arms? Should I leave them up by my head? There's not quite enough room. Hows about I just let the hang down? Yeah. That will work. Just flop them on down there. That's going to work great. I think my hands are starting to go to sleep. I can't feel my fingers. Well don't be ridiculous. Put your arms back on the table. But there's not quite enough room! Maybe I should try them along my sides. Will she notice if I move? Will she think I'm not liking this and stop if I'm continually thrashing my arms around? Don't be silly. You're paying for this. Just move your arms where you want them. I'm afraid she'll stop. You are ridiculous. Ridiculous and a half. Move your stupid arms already.

Zen Self: Arms next to side. Now that's a great combo. How great is it that we've got the Mozart going today? Can a girl ever ask for more than Mozart and a Massage? I think I like this better than the ocean and the babbling brook CD. Laa-Tee-Daa-Te-Daa-Te-Daa-Te-Daaaaaaaa. Oh yeah. Oh she's doing my leg that's been lugging das boot. Yum yum Yummie to the Yummie. I think when Leigh comes here to have the baby I'll send her in for a massage. Because she will have been lugging around something too. She will like Alita the Angel of Mercy. Oh I am such a good Mommacita for even thinking that. I am giving and kind and I am maybe an Angel of Mercy as well.

Crazy Self: Don't pass gas. Don't pass gas. Don't do it. Don't. I mean it. That would be bad. Even though you are relaxed right now, you've raised 4 kids Mommacita, and you can figure out how to not do that. If anyone could read your thoughts right now they would be grossed out, think you are sickening, and be disgusted with you. Don't even think about putting these thoughts on your blog. You will be sorry. Don't do it. Don't. I mean it. DO NOT

Zen Self: Good job on averting the gas crisis Mommacita. You have more control than previously imagined (and someday you may have enough to write a proper blog) and I am duly impressed. Oh, she's being so careful on my broken foot. That feels like a butterfly is flitting around and over my broken broken foot. Butterflies can heal things, right? The butterfly and the Mozart are making me better. Pretty pretty butterfly. Pretty pretty Mozart. Is that drool coming out of my mouth?

Crazy Self: Do you think Alita the Angel of Mercy saw the drool? I would not want someone drooling in my place of business. I think the drool went through the head donut pillow and is on the carpet. Do you think it's on the carpet? Oh I hope it is not on the carpet. Just look down there and see.... Shift a little to the left.... I can't tell. It's one of those Persian rugs with a busy pattern. Relax. It is a pattern that hides drool. I wonder if that is on purpose?

Zen Self: Lucky break on the Persian rug, but you best be careful where you step when you get off this table missy.