The good news is that today is the shortest day of the year. So it's all uphill from here.
Yesterday, it was cloudy and windy. It wasn't cold, but it was too chilly to go to the beach, even though it was in the 70s. The beach is miserabe when there is no sun and the wind is blowing.
Missing a day of tanning has really hurt my routine. Today was supposed to be SPF 23 so that tomorrow I can go down to 12. Now I'm a whole day behind on my tapering. If I don't get enough sun to tan I will throw a fit. Because I'm an adult. And adults are allowed to throw fits when there isn't enough sun to tan.
So I got up and stayed in my pajamas until noon. Lorin and I decorated the condo for Christmas and put in a new router, so the wireless is working again! Then I browsed trips online. Because that is what I do in my spare time. I'm thinking that for graduation/18th birthday, I would like to either go trekking in Afghanistan or take the train from Beijing to St. Petersburg. Anyone want to be a travel buddy?
So, anyway, around noon I was getting bored, having looked at every trip on the National Geographic, Mountain Travel Sobek and Wilderness Travel sites. I suggested to Lorin, jokingly, "well, let's go get massages." He was all, "no way, I'm not paying two-hundred bucks for you to go get a massage at some nearby resort." So I had goldfish for lunch and started browsing the Rick Steves site.
Finally, he said, "well Han, if you want an early Christmas present, I guess you could go get a massage, with the quid pro quo you talk to me after." (sidenote: I wasn't giving him the silent treatment, he just likes me to talk with him more than I do. I AM NOT A BAD DAUGHTER) So anyway, lucky me, gets a massage.
So I went over to the Hilton that happens to be just across the street. The Hilton where, when I was little, we would go on "outings" to ride the boat or the train that runs around the hotel. The Hilton where, when I was six, I swam with the dolphins. The Hilton where we would sneek in to the pool, using the plastic bracelets Judy saved up over the years. The Hilton where a sea turtle once snuck up on me, inspiring a lifelong fear of sea turtles. The Hilton where the ice cream shop used to give full-scoop samples. The Hilton is a resort paradise.
I got down to the spa, half an hour early, as they told me to, and soaked in the hot tub. Normally, I don't like hot tubs because they smell like cooked chemicals. This one was salt water, which made it acceptable. Finally, the time came for my massage and I put on the robe that was way to big and followed a woman named Cat who wore all black and had red hair into the room.
The spa music was playing. Spa Music is for cheap spas with masseuses named Lola giving fifteen minute massages. I assumed they would have something better. So Cat left and I got on the massage table and within a few minutes I was enjoying the spa music, which, as it turns out, is much more relaxing than I thought it was. Maybe spa music is for one-percenters too.
She started massaging and I'm pretty sure I reached the state of Nirvana. As it turns out, massages are one of the greatest things in the whole wide world. Massages make cloudy days better. I should have hopped on this train years ago.
So go, blog reader, go and get yourself a massage.
We had a nice dinner last night. My glass slipped out of my hand.