Heavenly Days Spa

Still groggy from my dream of the Heavenly Days Spa. Everyone there wore petal pink choir robes, even the wise-eyed, wrinkled-face proprietress, who spoke to me in a voice that suggested some previous life full of cigarettes and whiskey. That voice sounded like driftwood, aged and impossibly smooth.

I listened as she looked at and through me and agreed that a full day at the Spa sounded like just the medicine for the rejuvenation of this soul.

Suddenly, I remembered I was supposed to be at home to go with Buck to a physical therapy appointment this morning for a partially torn supraspinatus muscle in his right rotator cuff. I checked my phone. Sure enough. He had left a message for me. I pushed the speed dial for home, and woke up.

Good thing, too. He really does have that physical therapy appointment this morning, and it's almost time to hit the shower.

5 thoughts on “Heavenly Days Spa

  1. A day at a spa? Hmmm. Sounds better than my plans: stain the decks, mow the lawns, finish cleaning the garage, clean Pablo’s cage, go pick up some litter, maybe go to Anchorage if the window’s in for my truck cap…. Oh, gosh. Are those clouds bringing rain? Maybe stay inside and read all day, pretending I’m on a warm beach somewhere.

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  2. Beth, to have a dream like that, something very good must be going on in your life.
    By the way, I’m disoriented about your blogs. I’m not sure what to link to right now. Could you give me a brief update?

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