Radio and a Pedicure

I fled from the computer tonight to catch a pedicure before they closed at 7:30pm. I choose my color, red, and the nail ladies fit me in for a pedicure and a ten minute chair massage. I grabbed an InStyle and climbed up onto the chair to enjoy a quick but satisfactory pedi while the few workers who remained in the nail place put away stools and emptied trash cans.

When it was time, I moseyed over to the massage chair and got comfortable in the adjustments the pedicurist made to it. I put my head into the leather head-piece covered in a ripped paper towel, and felt her hands on my back. Then I heard Chicago on the radio, my guilty pleasure love-song group. I dutifully thought, "Ewe, Chicago," which was followed by "Which song is this?" because I secretly like Chicago on the radio.

Then I was overcome. I seeped into the song and into a moment where I haven't been in a very long time. The voices from the day were sucked back into themselves like lingering smoke from a quick inhale of the cigarette. My questions that were swirling around: "How do I tell my boss that her way is not the best way? How do I give direction to my work peeps when the directions keep changing? Will I ever get out of this situation?" All of those questions disappeared and I was innocently back on my Laura Ashley covered double bed in my old room in 8th grade, lying on my stomach, listening to Chicago on my white alarm clock radio, trying to do my homework but wondering if any boy would call me tonight, or if any boy was thinking about it.

I came out of it pretty quickly, but still relaxed, and a bit more into my self, where as before I was all around myself analyzing many situations of the day at once. The walk home was cold and quiet, and my feet were warm and lotiony in my clogs. I've gotten back onto the computer, as you can see, but pretty soon I'll be outside walking Gerdy and the computer will be dark. Until tomorrow.