My alarm goes off at 8:00 a.m. I hit the snooze button at least five times before actually getting out of bed. It's now 8:30 and I don't have time to wash my hair so I throw it up in a bun and jump in the shower just long enough to wash the previous day off of my body.
After getting dressed I slap enough makeup on to give the impression that I'm put together and make my way to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee in a ceramic cup with no lid. If I'm lucky there's a banana sitting on the counter for me to grab on my way out of the house. I inhale said banana while driving to work and spill my coffee while going over a speed bump that I wasn't paying attention to.
I arrive at work at 9:31, only one minute late. My first appointment is at 10:00 a.m. I scramble around the halls of the spa looking for a room that hasn't already been claimed by another therapist. When I finally find a room to use for the day, I stock the hot towel cabinet and grab enough sheets to change out after each of my appointments. My 10:00 is running late. It's now 10:10 and he's still filling out paperwork. I hate it when people are late. That'll be ten minutes off of his massage otherwise it’ll put me behind for the rest of the day.
It’s Saturday and I’m booked solid. I barely have time to eat or drink anything. Around 1:30 p.m. my stomach starts growling. I really hope my client can't hear it because they probably think I have gas or something. Finally, 2:00 comes around and I scarf down a turkey sub, chug some water and take a deep breath before getting back to work.
My last appointment starts at 5:05 and it's going to be the longest 50 minutes of my life. I check the clock every so often as I move from one body part to another. At 5:55 I leave the room and take a deep breath. Thank God this day is over.
After seven hours of back to back massages I'm completely exhausted and barely have the energy to make the ten-minute drive home. When I get home I head straight for the bedroom, change into my pajamas and plop face down onto my pillow.
