See the hands of my offspring making windmills.

I had a very "Jesus laying his hands on the sick" moment today.

Still nursing my pain (on top of the annoying cold symptoms I've been sporting), I pulled my grubby body in to work when I really wanted stay buried under 2 feet of blankets...like a blanket tomb. It took me longer to walk down the stairs than it took the Titanic to sink. Damian and I determined that the cause of my pain is clearly flesh-eating robotic wolves. I had them once before. They are nibbling their way through fat, muscle, bone, and skin and will finally errupt, splashing blood and guts on the faces of those around me. It sounds way worse than it really is. It smells a lot like my car.

When I arrived at work, I was in no mood for anyone or anything, and it seems anyone and anything was in no mood for me either...it happens. It's behind me. I wanted to get in and get out and get to bed. I can't be sore for the Pussyfoot Girls' show on Saturday, egads! I won't be able to twist and turn, shake my hips, flash my can, or wriggle on the floor with Maggie if my lower quadrant is out of whack! I'll be on the disabled list!

Regardless.

I always joke about copy room romance but today, the day I resembled a sickly junior high schooler in my camo hoodie and Vans, I got a little of what I needed. A guy walked in and I told him I was sick and in a lot of pain. He politely asked if I had gone to the doctor (to which I wigged about hating doctors and always having them want to slice or vacuum fragments out of me) and then he offered to feel "the spot". Much to my shock, he slipped his hand under the hoodie and proceeded to gently massage my side. Sorry if it sounds all mushy, but the feel of a man's hand on my skin was fan-fucking-tastic...and the fact that I knew he was NOT examing my pain but clearly wanted to feel his man hand on my soft girl skin made it that much better, especially since the massage actually hurt like Hell. Little does he know he was probably tenderly carressing my guts.

I'll never wash that skin again. I won't have to since the wolves are going to eat it.